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The Divergent Path
As much as he hated his cousin, Harry didn’t want to see him dead. Luckily, the overweight teen had managed to get away without attracting the attention of the large canine. Unluckily, it meant that the creature’s focus was on Harry himself. When they had stumbled across the creature as it stalked through an alleyway between two houses - snuffling through the debris of a spilled trash can - Harry had thought it was just a large dog. Sickly and with matted fur, Harry had nudged at Dudley so they wouldn’t attract its attention. But then the creature had stood up on two legs and had bared bloody canines that dripped with thick saliva, its yellow eyes filled with madness. A werewolf.
Harry had immediately drawn his wand and stepped in front of Dudley. “You need to get out of here!” He hissed at his cousin while making sure his eyes never left the creature that had slowly started to stalk towards them, its figure hunched and starving. “Go!” He hissed at Dudley, thankful that the boy didn’t argue for once. Dudley turned on his heel and ran as fast as his feet could carry him, but the werewolf never even glanced at the retreating muggle. Harry swallowed thickly, but barely dared to breathe.
Suddenly and without any warning, the wolfman lunged at Harry. With a curse, Harry dodged to the side and cast a stunner that impacted against its emaciated shoulder. The red spell light fizzled out quickly and only made the creature stumble. Harry’s eyes widened and he did the only thing he could think of in that panicked moment. He turned and ran back towards the park. He was sure there was a public bathroom that was nestled within the copse of trees that surrounded a portion of the park. If he could just hide in the structure, it might keep him safe long enough for someone to notice that something was wrong. Hopefully.
Harry sucked in air as deeply as he could, but it burned within his lungs. His legs were on fire as well, but adrenaline kept him moving forward. He could practically feel the heated breath of the wolf that snapped at his heels. Pure panic nearly blinded him as he continued to weave through the streets. What was a werewolf even doing here? It wasn’t even the full moon! Granted, all he really knew was from muggle myths and his experiences with Professor Lupin in his Third year. He hadn’t even done that stupid paper that Snape had tried to force them to do. Obviously he knew jack shit because it was undoubtedly a werewolf that was hunting him through the streets of Little Whinging. And gaining on him, obviously tired of the game.
Pain like he had never felt before suddenly erupted through his thigh, even worse than the Cruciatus Voldemort had used on him in the graveyard. Before he knew it, Harry was flat on the ground and the heavy body of the werewolf was on top of him. It’s rancid breath washed over his neck and Harry convulsed. Acid was slowly crawling through his veins, but he half expected his throat to be suddenly torn out. He didn't want to die! His vision swam and he might have lost a few seconds, but suddenly the weight on top of him was gone.
Harry had lost his glasses at some point - and pain blurred his vision even worse - but he could make out the form of two wolves as they fought. One was black as night and Harry could only see him because of the streetlights that flickered overhead. That one was much larger than the mangy grey that had bitten him. They were fighting, but Harry couldn’t even begin to make out who was winning. Darkness crept in on the edges of his hazy vision, but he fought to stay awake. It became too much, however, and he soon slipped away into blessed unconsciousness.
When he woke again, it took Harry a long time to realize he was being carried. Everything hurt, but the worst seemed to be centered around his thigh. It was like his leg was in the process of burning. A true burn would have destroyed the nerves that felt pain and Harry almost wished that it was the case. True fire would be preferable over whatever had actually befallen him. He remembered a werewolf, mangy and completely moon mad. A lunatic. Harry huffed a laugh at his own thoughts, but then groaned as it only made the pain worse in a sharp flare that radiated from his thigh.
“Hush now. Don’t move.” The words were spoken in a low voice that rumbled through the chest that Harry leaned against. He didn’t recognize the voice, but something in him settled. There was a feeling of safety that wrapped around him, that calmed the need to fight. He whined softly, trying to tell the voice just how much it hurt. “Shh, I know,” the voice spoke gently, as if he understood. “Just hang on, pup.” Harry’s brow furrowed, but he couldn’t hold onto consciousness anymore as he once again slipped off into darkness.
Harry had no idea how much time had passed when he woke again. His awareness returned to him slowly, though his senses were already telling him things about his surroundings. He could feel the softness of furs beneath him, the thin blanket over him smelling like summer rain and sunlight. The room itself smelled faintly like woodfire and strongly like herbs. He could hear the crackling of a low fire as the logs popped and the faint whistle of steam from a kettle. There were the soft sounds of movement from further away, but Harry felt no fear. His body was stiff and there was a dull ache, but the pain he remembered was now gone.
“Oh, you’re awake,” a voice spoke in a hush, but Harry heard every word clearly. He blearily opened his eyes finally and made himself turn his head in search of the voice. A woman was bent over the raised hearth that featured in the centre of the space, but she stood up and brushed off her skirt. Her hair was a vibrant red that was streaked with white, and Harry could see even from a distance the splattering of freckles across her cheeks. “You’ve been asleep for a week, Mr. Potter.” So they knew who he was, but it was the fact that he had been asleep for so long that was especially alarming.
When he opened his mouth to speak, only a soft rasp escaped. Harry grimaced and licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry and like it was full of cotton. Or perhaps something had died in it because he could taste something metallic. The woman gave a reassuring smile and made her way over to the bed in slow movements, likely in an effort not to startle him. Harry appreciated it, though he felt like he could trust her. When she poured some water into an earthenware cup, he slowly sat himself up and took it with a little nod. He felt parched, but forced himself to drink slowly under the woman’s watchful gaze.
Finally, he lowered the cup. “Where am I?” He rasped out the words. “Who are you?”
The woman smiled at him and took the empty cup back. “I can’t answer all of your questions for you just yet, but I promise that you will get your answers soon,” she said soothingly. “I am Healer Peigi. You have been in my care since they brought you to me and I’m the one who took care of that nasty wound on your thigh.”
At the reminder, Harry ripped back the blankets before the woman could stop him. Peigi let out a little sigh, but Harry ignored her. His chest was bare and he only wore a pair of simple linen undergarments. His left thigh was still bandaged and it gave a dull throb at his sudden movements. As Harry gripped the blankets, the tremor in his hands went unnoticed. A heavy stone of dread sank down in his stomach and he felt like he might be sick, though there wasn’t anything in his stomach but water. “I’m a werewolf now, aren’t I?” He whispered the words, though they still cracked with emotion.
It wasn’t really a question. He thought he could feel the beast as it roiled around inside of him, trapped and caged. He worried that it would try to burst out if he didn’t control it. Smells were vibrant around him and he realized he could see fine details even though he no longer wore his glasses. The signs were all around him.
“Oh, a sheòid,” Peigi whispered. “You did not ask for this, but know that you are not alone.”
Before Harry could snap at her - or she could voice any other words - there was a sharp rap on the door. When it opened with a creak, Harry’s first instinct was to throw himself onto the floor and bare his neck for the stranger that stepped inside. The man was large, broad shouldered and tall. He had silver hair that was long and braided tightly against his skull on one side of his face while his beard was short and well maintained. But it was his eyes that stood out as they were a bright moonsilver. Harry thought he might choke on the man’s presence, the feeling of power and command that surrounded the stranger like a cloak. Harry whined softly as he fought against new instincts that he couldn’t even begin to unravel.
The stranger glanced at Peigi and gave her a nod. She left quickly without another word, though another man slipped in through the door before it closed. Somehow, Harry thought he recognized this man. The dark hair and bright blue eyes were unfamiliar, but something in him told Harry that he somehow knew this man. But his eyes remained on the silver haired man, though he kept his gaze lowered. He had so many questions, but they felt caught in his chest.
“I am glad to see you awake,” a deep voice rumbled from the silver haired man. His accent was Scottish, though there were hints of something else in it that Harry couldn’t place. “We had worried that you wouldn’t wake.” The man came over then and sat down on a stool that he pulled to the edge of the bed. “You must have many questions.” Harry could only give a little nod as he bowed his head. There were so many emotions that roiled around in his gut. Uncertainty. Fear. Anger. He bit his tongue to stay silent.
A pleased smile curled the edges of the stranger’s lips, though Harry couldn’t even begin to understand why when he caught the look from the corner of his eye. “What do you remember, pup?” The question was asked gently.
Harry bristled a little at being called a pup, but quickly stopped himself from growling. He licked his lips instead to wet them. “I like to wander the streets to clear my head sometimes. My cousin was headed home too and we happened to meet up. We were walking and I thought it was a sickly looking dog at first,” he muttered. “But then it stood up. We were in the middle of a muggle neighborhood… it wasn’t even the full moon!” The last of it came out in a rush as he curled his fingers in his blanket, the words sounding hysterical even to him.
The silver haired man glanced at his companion, who had knelt down on one knee beside the bed. “My name is Artair,” he introduced himself. “I was tracking the rogue werewolf that you ran into. I’m so sorry that I was too late, pup.” He gave Harry a sad sort of smile. “I was the one to bring you here so you could get treated, to be around others like you so we could help you.”
“Where even is here?” Harry burst out before he caught himself. He ducked his head, but felt his anger burn hotter for acting so submissive. This wasn’t like him!
At his outburst however, the silver haired man only chuckled in amusement. “You are in an unplottable location in the Highlands of Scotland,” he informed Harry. “My name is Fenrir Greyback and this is my pack.”
“You’re all werewolves,” Harry breathed out. He felt anxiety coil in his belly, but it was not because of any prejudice he might have held. There were just so many unknowns and he felt entirely overwhelmed.
Greyback regarded Harry critically and then gave a sharp nod. He didn’t seem to find Harry lacking at any rate. “Yes,” the man agreed simply and then continued to speak. “As I am Alpha, it is customary for me to welcome new wolves into the pack. As you are a new wolf and unaccustomed to our way of life, it is our responsibility to help you with the change. You will be assigned a guardian who will teach you our ways.” He motioned to the man beside him. “Because it was Artair who saved you and brought you here, I have given him the responsibility of your care. Once Healer Peigi clears you, you will move in with Artair until you make the decision to join our pack or not.” Greyback stood then. “Healer Peigi had alerted me that you had started to wake, so I came to welcome you. It looks like you haven’t been awake for long however, so we’ll leave you alone for now to get some more rest. Any of your questions can wait until then so you have a chance to come to terms with the situation.” He gave Harry a smile that softened his face while Artair gave a grin with a cheeky little salute.
Both other wolves were gone not long later, though Harry couldn’t bring himself to speak. He carefully laid himself down in the woodframed bed and watched the fire in the hearth, unable to sleep again for a long time. But the dancing flames were mesmerizing and exhaustion still pulled at him. His thoughts kept him awake longer than they should have, but eventually Harry slipped off into sleep.
It was two days later before Peigi declared he was healed enough to leave her care. It had been explained to him that werewolves healed quickly, but the Bite would take time to fully heal and magical healing could only do so much to help. So, though the wound had closed, Harry still walked with a limp as movement stretched the still healing skin. He’d been reassured that it would be fully healed by the time of his first moon in a couple of week’s time. Harry hadn’t felt reassured, but it was at the thought of the full moon rather than his healing Bite.
When Peigi had released him, Artair had come to collect him. Harry had been provided with clothes, a simple tunic and linen trousers. His wand had been returned to him as well, but these were his only possessions. Thoughts of what had happened to his things disappeared however when he stepped outside for the first time in over a week. The werewolf village was made up of scattered buildings that all resembled the one he had stayed in with Peigi. The huts were half buried into the ground with turf roofs, smoke curling up from stone chimneys. There was a longhouse next to a large open clearing in the distance as well, where Harry assumed that the Alpha lived. But what really caught his eye was the landscape around them.
The village was built in the valley between craggy hills and low mountains, against the bank of a loch with deep blue waters. The immediate land around the village was lush and green in grazing fields for animals, but there were also trees and bright splotches of colour that might have been flowers. Cattle with long coats and long horns grazed on the hillsides while there were chickens housed in fenced pens next to houses. Harry even spotted a few goats as they grazed on the turf rooftops. Beyond these fields was a forest that surrounded the village, gnarled and old but still vibrant with life.
The next thing that caught his eye was the people as they moved about in their daily chores. Some tended to the animals. Some tended to gardens. There were so many things to see! Children ran about as they played or helped with chores. The most startling were the wolves that walked amongst those who remained in their human skins. “There are so many,” he whispered. He had always imagined werewolves like Professor Lupin where they were few and far between. And unable to take on a wolf form outside of the full moon.
“Two hundred strong, give or take. Though not all of the pack are werewolves, but rather human mates. Even so, we’re the largest pack in Great Britain,” Artair stated proudly as he came to stand next to Harry. “Come on. Let me show you where I live and then I can start answering some of your questions.” Harry could only nod as he followed after his new guardian.
The hut that they entered was dimly lit by the crackling fire that burned within the central hearth, its place the heart of the small home. There were lanterns about as they were hung from the rafters that also carried furs. Along the back wall was some storage, as well as a table with a couple of chairs. Up against one wall was enough space for two box beds that were warmly prepared with furs and blankets. The two beds were separated by a woven wooden wattle screen so that there was some privacy. Against the opposite wall was more storage. It was a simple space, but Harry found it cozy and surprisingly calming. He could smell the smoke of the fire and the earthiness of the hut’s beams, its roof. It was naturally cool, though the fire warmed it back up.
“This is your bed here,” Artair showed Harry. At the end of the bed, nestled in the space between it and the wall, was Harry’s trunk. When the teen gave Artair a startled look, the man chuckled and tapped his nose. “I tracked it down for you.” He didn’t say that he had found the trunk tossed out like yesterday’s trash. “I figured having some of your things might make things easier for you,” he said as he led Harry over to the table. “Sit down and let me get us something to eat. We can talk over food.” As Harry took a seat, Artair went over to a cabinet and opened it up to show that it was food storage. “Normally the pack likes to eat as a whole, but there is always food on hand. Werewolves need to eat a lot to keep up our strength.”
Artair came back over with a wooden platter and set it down between the two of them. There was cheese, sliced bread, nuts, dried fruits and slices of what looked like ham. There must have been a stasis charm integrated into the cold storage, Harry thought as he started to pick at the food. In the next moment, Artair slid over an earthenware cup filled with some sort of fruit juice. Harry thanked him quietly and then tore off a piece of ham. “What happens to me now? What about my friends? Hogwarts?”
The older male didn’t say anything for a long moment. He absently swirled his own cup then and took a sip. “Well, to begin with, I want to promise you that you are not a prisoner here. However, I do recommend that you stay with the pack until you can settle into your new skin. Hogwarts resumes on September 1st, right? It’s the beginning of July now, so there is still plenty of time before you need to make any decisions.” Artair gave him a little smile. “You won’t be able to tell your friends where you are, but we can talk to Alpha about at least letting them know that you are safe.”
It wasn’t quite the answer that he was looking for, but Harry nodded. Had they even noticed his absence from his relatives’ house anyways? No one had been telling him anything all summer while both Ron and Hermione were apparently somewhere together. Harry scowled at his thoughts and picked at the food on the platter. He was hungry, but his thoughts kept going in circles. “It wasn’t even a full moon,” he said suddenly. “How could I even get bitten anyways?”
Artair regarded him a moment and then he took a drink as he seemingly tried to gather his thoughts. “Have you covered werewolves in any of your studies?”
At the question, Harry gave a weak shrug. “Not really? One of my dad’s close friends is a werewolf and he taught at Hogwarts in my Third year. He took wolfsbane to control his transformation on the full moon, but I saw him once when he forgot to take the potion. He kind of looked like the wolf that attacked me, but I definitely saw Professor Lupin during a full moon.”
Across from him, Artair grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t know how close you are to Lupin, but it’s obvious to me that he is fighting his wolf. The wolfsbane potion is literal poison to wolves, hence the name. It’s like a cage for the wolf, a small one. Any caged wolf is going to be sickly and will lash out the moment it is free.” He rubbed at his face then. “Wolves that accept their natures are able to learn how to switch between their skins, though the draw is always strongest during the full moon.” He grimaced then and took another drink. “Ah, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start over and give you a bit of a history lesson.”
Harry only nodded, so Artair took a deep breath. “Our pack has roots all the way back to when Vikings settled on the shores of Scotland hundreds of years ago. Through the generations, many of the customs have been passed down or evolved. Werewolves are deeply attuned to nature, so we have little use for many muggle or wizarding advancements. We are content, so why change?” The man gave a bark of a laugh. “But I’m getting off track again. Some of us believe in the old Gods and there are festivals in celebration. But one thing we all believe in is the concept of a multi-part soul. The four most important parts are the hamr, the hugr, the fylgja, and the hamingja.”
Harry frowned at the explanation, but tried to pay attention. Artair gave him a smile. “Now, the hamingja is thought to be passed down through family lines, our natural strengths and weaknesses. It’s our potential and our proclivity.”
“So, like how my dad was supposed to be a really good flyer and Quidditch player and I inherited that skill from him,” Harry said as he tried to make sense of it.
Artair gave Harry an encouraging nod. “Yes, exactly. Next, is the fylgja. This is our core essence and can be projected from our bodies, typically in dreams. Often they take on the shape of an animal that is representative of an individual and can act as a sort of guide. For werewolves, our fylgja takes on the shape of a wolf of varying breeds. Our wolves are separate spirits, yet also part of us. You’ll meet your wolf in your dreams, especially in the beginning with your change.” It didn’t really make sense to Harry, but it seemed like something he needed to experience for himself.
“Next is the hugr, which is our minds, emotions, and wills,” Artair continued. “The hugr is typically what most think of as the soul as it’s what leaves the body upon death. It will pass into the afterlife, or even stay behind sometimes as a ghost.” The dark haired man gave a grin. “Then that leaves us the hamr. This is the most important for us wolves. The hamr is our outward appearance, our physical form. We can use our hugr to manipulate our hamr. Werewolves are the inspiration for the úlfhéðnar from Norse legends, where warriors would don the hamr of a wolf through a battle-frenzy. Us werewolves are true úlfhéðnar, though we don’t need a battle-frenzy for us to shift between our hamr.”
It all seemed so incredible. “The wolves I saw in the village look like normal wolves. But Professor Lupin - and the werewolf that bit me - stood up on two legs,” Harry said softly as he tried to separate the truth from what he knew.
Artair gave a grave nod. “Though your professor controls his full moon transformations to an extent with the wolfsbane, it’s little more than a bandage. I’m sorry to say, but he’s little better than a rogue wolf. Rogue wolves are incredibly dangerous and are often werewolves that haven’t accepted their wolves. Or they haven’t been trained to safely integrate their new instincts.”
At the answer, Harry felt suddenly sick. “So that could happen to me if I don’t stay?”
The werewolf across from him gave a grim nod. “It is a possibility, yes. Rogue wolves are at the complete whim of the moon and - because they fight against their transformation - are cursed to a sort of partial transformation.”
“But it wasn’t the full moon when I was bitten,” Harry insisted, confused.
Artair chuckled, though there was hardly any humour in his voice. “Patience, pup. I’m getting to that.” Harry flushed, but held his tongue. Artair gave him a reassuring grin before he continued. “Some rogue werewolves are wolves that have accepted their fylgja, but cannot control their new power and become consumed by it. All wolves can learn a partial transformation and it’s what fueled Norse legends of úlfhéðnar. We reserve these forms mainly for battle.”
It was a lot of information, but it made sense for the most part so far. “How long does it take to learn how to control your instincts?” Harry asked softly, still just picking at his food. He felt like his stomach was in knots and he couldn’t bring himself to eat.
“Everyone is different,” Artair said gently. “However, the first transformation is the most crucial. It was why it was paramount that I bring you to the pack and why I highly recommend you stay.” He reached out to gently place his hand over Harry’s. “You can’t transform until the first full moon after the initial Bite. If you haven’t already, you will start seeing your fylgja in your dreams. A wolf is a dangerous creature and the first instincts you have will be to run. Stand your ground and confront it. Your wolf is your partner, not an enemy.” When Harry swallowed down bile, his face pale, Artair gently squeezed the boy’s hand. “If you don’t get it on the first try, that’s okay. You have time. You didn’t grow up in this world, but instead likely heard stories of werewolves being monsters. It’s only natural that you won’t be able to control your fear at the beginning.”
Harry gave a shaky nod, but Artair gave him a reassuring smile. “When we are in our wolf forms, we retain our human minds. We become more driven by our instincts, but we’re not feral beasts.” The dark haired man chuckled. “Your first transformation, you’ll be more driven by those new instincts because they’ll be brand new to you. We’ll be there to guide you, so you don’t have to worry. Once you’ve had that transformation, I’ll be able to teach you how to slip between your skins when you want.” Harry could only nod.
Over the course of the weeks before the full moon, Harry mostly kept to Artair’s home. The man had a few books and things that Harry used to occupy himself, though he had started to join the pack for meals. He had been nervous - almost skittish - at first because of his past experiences. His relatives had always made sure that strangers would view him as a troublemaker, a delinquent. Witches and wizards would either swarm him because they wanted the chance to meet their saviour, or they would sneer at him because he wasn’t enough of a hero for their liking. Most of them wanted something from him, things that he struggled to give. And anyone he met seemed to have some sort of preconceived view of him, but rarely saw him for who he was. But here was different. The pack were warm to him, quick to give him a kind word or an inviting smile. Even the kids treated him as an equal.
There were a handful of women and a few men that looked over the youngest children during the day. They were there to teach them and look over them while their parents tended to the daily chores of the village. There were even a handful of teens that were around his age. They were a little more distrustful of him at first, but nothing that wasn’t normal for teenagers. Eadric, a lanky blonde who was a year older than Harry, was the first to reach out a hand.
Suddenly, Harry had the opportunity to be a normal teenager with normal friends. If one ignored the werewolf thing, of course. But Eadric became his friend because he wanted to know more about Harry, not Harry Potter. After all, Ron had become his friend because he was interested in being the Boy-Who-Lived’s friend. Ron’s loyalty wasn’t even very reliable considering the redhead’s actions at the start of the Triwizard Tournament the previous year. Hermione hadn’t come to him because of his fame, but she did tend to obsess over knowledge and rules. But Eadric? There were no expectations. He even showed him a secret spot in the nearby forest and introduced him to the other teenagers. There was roughhousing and games, but they were all careful to not exclude him while he couldn’t take on a wolf form yet.
Nights were more difficult as some nights he dreamed of his wolf, just as Artair had explained. These were the best nights as he slowly learned to let go of his fear and wander the deep forests of his dreams with the black furred wolf at his side. But most nights he was haunted by dreams of Cedric dying, of the graveyard. When he woke from these dreams, Artair was always there to soothe him. They didn’t always talk, but the werewolf’s presence was enough. It felt like someone was actually listening to him for once, actually cared enough to ask if he was okay. He wasn’t. It was freeing to finally admit that out loud.
When the day of the full moon arrived, Harry felt like there was a live wire beneath his skin. He was restless and on edge, though Artair had done what he could to keep Harry occupied. But then - during lunch with the pack - the Alpha summoned him. Artair brought Harry to the Alpha’s long house once they had finished eating. The inside was set up much like Artair’s hut, though there was much more space and other things. At one end of the longhouse, Greyback was seated upon a dais that was covered in furs.
Once they had greeted the Alpha, Greyback invited Harry to come sit on the dais step. Artair took a step back so that he was close by, but Harry could speak with the Alpha privately. “How are you settling in?” Greyback asked first as he leaned back into the pillows behind him.
“Everybody has been really kind,” Harry offered as he sat down. He glanced over to Artair, who gave him an encouraging smile. “I like it here.” He was sure that there were wolves that reported his activities to the Alpha, but it was sort of nice to have the large man check in on him.
“Do you want to stay?”
The question was asked gently and Harry found himself unable to breathe for a moment, caught off guard and overwhelmed by the strength of emotion in his chest. “I...” He started, but then trailed off. He ducked his head and curled his fingers in the soft trousers he wore. “I want to stay,” he whispered. “But I can’t.” He could feel Greyback’s eyes on him and it made him hunch his shoulders while anxiety laced through his chest. Somehow, he did not fear the Alpha. What he feared lay beyond the borders of the village and its land.
“Why not?” Greyback’s voice was just as gentle as before and Harry thought the earth had opened up beneath him.
Why not? “I have a duty,” he replied weakly. “Voldemort killed my parents. Everyone…” He trailed off and sharply shook his head.
Harry heard movement before he felt a heavy hand on his head. His breath caught in his throat and he could not speak. Instead, Greyback gently brushed his wild locks back. “You are a child,” the Alpha said gravely. “You should not have to fight in the wars of grown men.”
“But everyone expects me to defeat him again.” He didn’t know why he was protesting, but it felt like he was parroting words that had been spoken to him before. Harry trembled and then pressed his palms against his eyes. “I’m so tired, Alpha. I don’t want to be the saviour.” He tried to hold back a sob, but his breathing still hitched and he hiccuped softly. After a moment, he suddenly found himself pulled against a strong chest. Harry stiffened, but Greyback made a soft sound like a soothing rumble. Tears immediately gathered in Harry’s chest and he completely broke down.
As Greyback started to rub his back, Harry couldn’t help the words that started to tumble out of his mouth. He spoke about his childhood, his first years at Hogwarts. He told the Alpha about the constant anxiety, the danger he always seemed to be in. He mentioned how many times he had already gone up against Voldemort, how many times he had nearly died. He told Greyback how his classmates - and even the whole wizarding world at large - would turn on him at the drop of a coin. He sobbed as he mentioned how lonely he was, how angry he was that he was being treated like a young child when he’d never really had the chance to just be a kid, but was still expected to fight against Voldemort one day. That he was angry that all of his choices were being made for him. By the time he didn’t have anything more to say, Harry felt exhausted and just wrung out.
Greyback gently tilted Harry’s head back then and the boy nearly broke down again at the gentle expression on the Alpha’s face. No one had ever really looked at him like that before. That he mattered. Greyback was an imposing figure, someone you wouldn’t want to have to face off against. He always seemed to have a rough expression and he looked like he could rip someone in two. But right now, that was comforting. Like nothing could reach him when he was held in the werewolf’s arms.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” Greyback said suddenly. Harry blinked the tears off of his eyelashes and looked up at the Alpha. “You are still a child. Thrust into an adult world, but still a child. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to make your own choices, but you shouldn’t have to fight an adult’s war.” Greyback pulled back then and placed one of his large palms against Harry’s cheek. “You have a place here, pup, if you want it. You don’t have to return to Hogwarts and instead can learn magic alongside the other pups here. If you want to stay, then you can stay.”
“Can I think about it?” Harry asked softly even as he leaned into the palm against his cheek. Greyback’s hand was warm and it was comforting. He’d rarely been touched so gently like this and especially by adults. He’d agree that he was touch starved and Greyback came off like an uncle or a father. It was surprisingly nice and he wanted to just sink into it.
Greyback chuckled and then lifted his hand so he could ruffle Harry’s hair. “You are more than welcome to take all the time you need to make a decision. If you have any questions, Artair can answer them for you. I am more than happy to make time for you as well, pup.” He pulled his hand back then and nodded towards Artair. “Why don’t you go get some rest? You have your first transformation tonight and we’ll all be here to share it with you. However, it will be a long night.”
Harry nodded in agreement. Greyback was still close and hadn’t tried to push him away as he waited for Harry to leave on his own. He was sure that Greyback had other things to do, but was just grateful that the man had even taken the time to listen to him for so long. And though he was feeling jittery with the moon being so close, Greyback was right that he could use some rest. Especially after his emotional breakdown. He blushed a little, vaguely embarrassed, but relieved that Greyback hadn’t made fun of him for any of it. “Thank you, Alpha,” he said finally and then carefully got to his feet. Artair was there to help him when he found himself a bit shaky.
“I’ll see you later, pup. Sleep well and make sure you have something filling to eat,” Greyback said with a nod.
Artair said his goodbye to the Alpha and then led Harry away. The boy felt drained, so was more than happy to be brought back to the hut he had been sharing with the older werewolf. He muttered a thanks to Artair and then crawled into his bed. Even though he still felt restless, it was a mild simmer that he was able to push aside to sleep.
Later that evening, Artair had woken him so he could have something to eat and then had led him to the clearing where others were gathering. Harry was on edge, the itch beneath his skin only getting worse. He knew the moon was about to rise, the sun about to set. He could feel it down into his very bones. He felt irritable and restless. The rest of the pack seemed to be gathered in the clearing in front of the Alpha’s longhouse, though he knew that the human members of the pack were tucked away in their homes to watch over infants that were too young to transform. Harry stood apart from them, but found himself watching the activity around him. Artair had told him that they were not at the whim of the moon, that they could resist the full moon’s call if they really wanted. At least the older werewolves could. However, they still transformed on the full moon because it was a tradition, a werewolf rite. And also because it was Harry’s first moon.
A heavy hand landed on Harry’s shoulder and he looked up to see that it was Greyback. The rough man gave him a small smile and squeezed his shoulder. “The instincts will be too hard for you to ignore at the beginning, but control will come with time. We’ll be here to guide you.” He squeezed Harry’s shoulder again. “Don’t fight the change. It will be painful, but just let it happen.”
Harry gave a shaky nod, but felt himself relax as Greyback gave him another little smile. The Alpha let go of Harry’s shoulder and then stepped forward to grab the attention of the pack. He welcomed them and gave a few announcements, welcoming a couple of new babies into the pack. Harry listened with half an ear, so it seemed like almost no time at all when he suddenly felt pain wash over him. He made subconscious note of the changes around him, but was far more focused on his own pain.
Barely able to breathe, Harry could feel his bones break and shift. He could feel his skin tear and hair grow like thousands of needles. By the time that the pain passed, he was winded and entirely confused. Harry could smell hundreds of scents around him, bombarding him. There were sounds of movements, growls and barks. He was too tired to lift his head at first as he panted heavily. His eyes were closed, but he distantly became aware of heavy footfalls as they approached him. Harry forced his eyes open and came face to face with a snow white wolf. He gave a soft whine.
The white wolf lowered his head and nudged his nose against Harry’s neck. Harry immediately submitted because he felt no threat from the larger wolf. The other wolf was powerful, but Harry felt safe.
As he had tried to climb to his feet then with the larger wolf’s encouragement, Harry became aware of another wolf as it approached. This wolf had black fur and blue eyes. Though he seemed familiar, Harry was taken by a spike of anxiety. In the span of a heartbeat, he found himself underneath the white wolf like a pup that was hiding beneath its parent. He whined softly, but slowly relaxed at the soothing rumble from the white wolf above him. Greyback, Harry thought. It was Greyback, wasn’t it? And the black wolf… was that Artair? On shaky legs, he cautiously crawled forward.
With Greyback’s strong presence at his back, Harry slowly greeted a number of the other wolves. Their scents were familiar, but he couldn’t quite place the names yet. It didn’t matter though as they happily welcomed him. He was starting to relax when another wolf approached him. He was smaller than the adults, but gangly and had yet to grow into his paws. His undercoat was white, but he had a dusting of light brown that would appear almost golden if it was in the sunlight. Eadric.
Eadric plopped his butt down and wagged his tail happily as he waited patiently for Harry to approach him. Greyback gave Harry a nudge with his nose to encourage him. It didn’t take long before Harry and Eadric were taking off at a run for the forest. Harry’s limbs were just as gangly as Eadric’s and he tripped over multiple exposed roots as he tried to figure out his four limbs. He never noticed Artair as the older wolf shadowed them to make sure Harry kept out of trouble.
Harry spent his first moon in the forest as he playfully chased rabbits with Eadric. When that got boring, they playfully wrestled in the dirt. Everything was new and exciting, so that got boring eventually as well. Harry was off again to sniff at every new and exciting scent, though Eadric was able to keep Harry in the pack’s land by herding him in new directions. Eventually though, Artair made his presence known and led the two teens back towards the village. A howl called out through the clear night to signal that the Hunt had returned. The pack would eat together before the sun rose.
When Harry became aware again, it was morning. Disoriented, and the night in pieces, he slowly became aware of the warm bodies that were curled up next to him. He slowly extracted himself, embarrassed to find himself naked. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but it took him awhile to realize that he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t wearing anything. Not all of the pack were in the clearing, but those who were there were slowly waking up as well.
“Welcome to the pack, pup,” a voice from behind him startled Harry. When he turned, he spotted Greyback as the Alpha stretched himself out. “How was your first moon?” When Harry grimaced a little and turned his head, the man chuckled. “The changes will get easier and you’ll remember more. I remember an energetic little pup with paws too big for his body and the curiosity of pups half his age.” The man laughed as Harry blushed a dark red, but couldn’t deny it. “It was good to see.” Harry only huffed.
After that first night, Artair started to teach Harry how to change his hamr at will. It was difficult at first, but eventually Harry was able to get a hang of it. What was harder was learning to separate his logical mind and his instincts. He still had a tendency to wander off and follow an interesting smell that had caught his attention, something that Eadric found entirely too amusing. Harry had pushed the older teen into a muddy puddle in retaliation, but that had quickly devolved into wrestling when Eadric had grabbed onto him and pulled him down with him. When they had returned to the village, Artair had rolled his eyes and pointed them towards the village baths.
Then, one early afternoon, Harry was roped into helping with the catch that the village’s fishing boat had brought in. It was mostly trout and had been brought down off the docks in crates. There was a group that had taken up stations to prepare the fish for storage as some of the fish would be preserved while some would go off to the village kitchens for dinner. Artair was there to help as well and had taken Harry over to a station with one of the crates to show the teen how to gut and fillet the trout.
Though he was careful to pay attention, Harry glanced up at some point to see the Alpha in the distance. “Where’s he going?” Harry asked curiously as he watched Greyback. The silver haired man was making his way through the village gate. Harry had been here long enough to know that the Alpha was headed to the Apparition point.
Artair looked up from where he was gutting a fish. “Hm? Oh, you mean Alpha?” He looked back down again and sighed softly as he focused back on his task. “The Dark Lord’s been trying to recruit him again.”
Harry thought he would have whiplash by how fast he looked over to the older wolf. “What?”
A grimace passed over Artair’s face and he dropped a fish into a basket. “During the first war, a lot of werewolves sided with the Dark Lord because he promised equal rights. I’m sure you know how the Ministry treats us. The Dark Lord promised change and better legislation. It was easy to fall into his trap.” Artair shook his head and grabbed a rag to wash off his hands. “Alpha was one of them. He was an angry young man, impulsive. That’s the way he puts it. I know he never bit anyone who didn’t want it, but some of them were children. Several would have died without his intervention, but I think there were a few where he was wrong about the situations they were in. He’s made mistakes, but he hasn’t done anything like that in a long time.”
Artair sighed then and leaned against the table as he looked out over the nearby loch. “By the time that we realized that the Dark Lord wasn’t going to keep his promises, that he was just a madman, Alpha was in too deep. The Dark Lord threatened the pack, the pups especially.” He gave a weak smile then. “When he was defeated, we all breathed a sigh of relief. Our reputations had become worse, but at least we were free of that man. We were safe here in our village. Fenrir’s father had been Alpha before him and Fenrir took over around that time. He focused on the wellbeing of the pack, bringing in new wolves that needed a home.”
“But now Voldemort’s back,” Harry whispered, his stomach twisting. Greyback hadn’t seemed like a bad person. He could be stern and rough, but he was fair and Harry could tell he cared for the pack.
Next to him, Artair gave a grim nod. “And now he’s back. He’s trying to recruit Alpha again, but Fenrir’s resisting.” Artair shook his head quickly then and looked down at Harry to give him a grin. “But don’t you worry about that, okay? You worry about being a child. So let’s finish this up and then you can go find your friends, hm?” Harry nodded so Artair went back to showing the teen how to prepare the fish. Harry was just glad that Artair had actually explained it to him and hadn’t tried to hide it just because he was a kid.
Time seemed to pass quickly from then. Harry fell into a routine within the pack where he would help with the various chores and spend a lot of time with Artair. The man was like an uncle or even a big brother to him. Harry learned how the village worked just by living there, which he found was the best way to learn and he enjoyed it like that. He didn’t even mind the manual labour that was just a part of life amongst the pack. Things were rarely done alone and it made things more enjoyable to be done with company. He had made more friends amongst the other teens as well, just enjoying being kids.
Then there was his birthday, which had been quite an experience. Being a celebrity in the wizarding world, they hadn’t even needed to ask when his birthday was. So they threw him a surprise party because he hadn’t expected anything. There had been a bonfire, food, and even a cake. Harry had been blown away and decided that it was the best birthday he had ever had. He would have been happy with just that, but then there had been the presents. He’d received mostly clothing, but hadn’t minded. They were clothes that were his alone and they had actually fit. They were new and not hand me downs. It made him feel like he was part of the pack. Even Greyback had given him a gift, though he almost couldn’t accept it out of surprise. The Alpha had given him a knife, something useful. Harry had strapped it to his thigh and had rarely taken it off, unless he was in his wolfskin.
But the war still always seemed to loom over his head. He knew that September 1st was approaching quickly and so he had to make a decision soon. He knew what he wanted, but when had he ever gotten what he wanted? So, he decided to ask Artair to request a visit with Greyback so he could talk to the Alpha. The werewolf immediately made time for Harry, another thing that adults hadn’t often done for him in the past. It made his chest ache with longing.
When they arrived at the Alpha’s longhouse, Greyback invited Harry to sit with him again. “What did you want to see me about, pup?”
Harry took a deep breath and looked down at his lap. “September is soon and I know I need to make a decision about what I want to do. If I go back… well, I don’t even know if they’ll accept me. Professor Dumbledore allowed Professor Lupin to attend Hogwarts, but what if they force me to take wolfsbane? What if they see me differently and turn their back on me again?”
Greyback watched Harry seriously as he spoke, then hummed softly when Harry trailed off. “You said before that you wanted to stay, but that you had a duty. What makes you say that?”
Harry was quiet for a time before he took another deep breath. “Voldemort went after me for a reason when I was a baby. Once I supposedly defeated him, he’s been obsessed with killing me. I don’t think he’ll stop until either one of us are dead,” he admitted softly. “I don’t want to put the pack in danger for protecting me.”
“Pup, the pack is already in danger because we refuse to stand by the Dark Lord again,” Greyback explained gently. “We want the respect that we are owed, but not at the expense of lives. Protecting you wouldn’t put us in any more danger than we already are. You are too young to have to worry about such things. Let us worry about that.” Greyback spoke in a low voice that was firm, but patient. It seemed to soothe the frayed edges of Harry’s nerves.
Harry looked up at Greyback again and gave him a watery smile. “I don’t want to fight anymore,” he whispered. “But Professor Dumbledore once told me that Voldemort unwittingly left a piece of him in me the night he tried to kill me. That’s why I can speak Parseltongue.” Harry admitted it softly as he looked down at his hands again. “And I… had a few dreams. About Voldemort. It was like I was him, seeing things through his eyes. Things I shouldn’t know. I’ve seen things this summer too, though not since I was bitten.” He didn’t see Artair and Greyback exchange a meaningful look. “What if I’m tied to Voldemort somehow? What if I have to fight him again?”
Greyback leaned forward and placed his hand over Harry’s much smaller ones. He then glanced over to Artair. “Go fetch Peigi,” he ordered and then turned his attention back to Harry. The teen had looked up at Greyback with wide and worried eyes. “Don’t worry, pup. I just want her to confirm something for me. Once we have that information, I’ll let you know what I’m thinking. I don’t want to worry you if I’m wrong.” Greyback gently squeezed Harry’s hands. “Now, if you didn’t have to worry about the war, would you want to stay?”
Harry swallowed thickly and gave a sharp nod. “I do,” he said strongly. He was sure about that. But his shoulders slumped as he glanced up at Greyback. “But I’m still a minor. Professor Dumbledore is going to be looking for me. He’s probably been looking for me and he’ll figure it out eventually. I don’t have any evidence for it, but I think he’d be my magical guardian because my relatives are muggles and he’s the Headmaster of my school. He’d force me to go back.”
When Harry looked back down again, Greyback gave a thoughtful hum. “You do have a good point. If memory serves, the Headmaster does act as magical guardian for any orphans that don’t have any living magical relatives.” Harry was just floored that Greyback was taking him seriously. He didn’t have a great track record of adults believing him after all. He quickly shook away his thoughts though as Greyback gave a sudden grin. “Well, I might have a solution for that. But only if you’re willing.”
“I’d like to know, Alpha,” Harry said when Greyback waited for a response from him. “If there’s a way for me to stay, if I do decide, then I want to know.”
Greyback gave a nod and squeezed Harry’s hands again. “A magical adoption,” he said and Harry’s eyes widened. “It wouldn’t be replacing either of your parents, but would rather give you a third parent. A living parent would automatically give them magical guardianship over you until you’re of age. Any of the wolves here would likely jump at the chance, but I would be the strongest candidate because of my authority as Alpha. Also, I think I’d like to have a son. I’ve never taken a mate and have never taken the time to think about having kids.” Harry opened his mouth to say something - he wasn’t even sure what - but Greyback reached out and placed a finger against his lips. “Hush. Think on it, but let’s have Peigi examine you first, okay?” Harry could only give a shaky nod, his eyes still wide.
When Artair returned, Peigi was behind him. She gave Harry a smile as she approached, though she greeted Greyback first. The man stood up off the low dais and approached the Healer. He bent down to whisper something to the woman, who looked shocked and then vaguely outraged. Harry wasn’t sure whether he should be annoyed that he was being excluded from the conversation, or worried about whatever the Alpha had told Peigi. He decided on worried because he had been learning patience. Greyback had promised to tell him what was going on and he trusted the Alpha to keep that promise. It wouldn’t help anything to be impatient.
Peigi approached him then, wand in her hand. “Don’t you worry now. Just hold still, okay? I promise this won’t hurt a bit.” She gave him a smile and then gently brushed his hair aside to expose his scar. The Healer started to mutter beneath her breath and Harry watched as the tip of her wand glowed a soothing blue. She traced it over his scar, so he closed his eyes and swallowed down bile. Was there something wrong with him? “Oh, a sheòid, it’s alright,” Peigi whispered as she shot him a quick smile. “Don’t you worry now.”
She tucked her wand away again before she pulled out a bar of chocolate and handed it over with a wink. “Let me talk to Alpha and then I’m sure he’ll let you know what’s going on.” She gently patted his cheek and then went to speak with Greyback and Artair in tones that were low enough that even his enhanced hearing couldn’t pick up. As the woman spoke, Harry watched Greyback’s expression as it darkened. The Alpha didn’t look too surprised, but he certainly wasn’t happy. Harry sighed and snapped off a piece of chocolate to pop into his mouth.
When Peigi left, Greyback approached Harry and then sat down on the edge of the dais. Harry hesitated and then offered a square of chocolate to the Alpha. The man chuckled, but accepted it. “What do you know about soul shards?” Greyback asked the question and then tossed the chocolate into his mouth.
“Ah, nothing, Alpha,” Harry said slowly, confused.
As if he had expected that, Greyback gave a nod. “It’s a very dark piece of magic, so I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of it. I’m sure the wizards have another name for it, but I’m unaware of what it could be. I only know about soul shards because it’s mentioned in an old pack legend that my father told me when I was a cub.” The Alpha leaned back and placed his hands on the ground behind him, though he looked over to Harry again. “Artair explained our belief in the multi-part soul, correct?” Harry only nodded. “Good. Now, soul shards are exactly what it sounds like. It is a foul piece of magic that fractures a person’s hugr.”
Harry shivered at the thought as dread creeped along his spine. “The hugr is our minds, emotions, and wills,” he quoted what Artair had told him. “It is the piece of us that moves on to the afterlife when we die.”
Greyback nodded grimly. “Yes. And by fracturing the soul and placing a piece in a vessel, the wizard can attain a form of immortality because it anchors the soul in the living world. However, they can never truly be whole again.”
“You think that’s how Voldemort was able to resurrect himself?” Harry said with dawning realization. He went pale then and pressed a hand against his mouth. “You think he placed a piece in me?”
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think it was on purpose. From what it sounds like, I think the Dark Lord placed multiple soul shards in various vessels. With that type of fracturing, his soul would likely be very brittle and it is the act of murder that is essential to the vile rite.” Greyback said grimly as he reached out and took Harry’s hand. “But the shard isn’t there any longer. You see, the way to destroy a soul shard would be to damage the vessel beyond repair. When you were Bitten, you nearly died, pup. And your body was rewritten to accept the form of the wolf. It was enough to destroy the shard that had attached itself to you. Peigi is sure of it.”
When Harry trembled, Greyback moved in closer and wrapped his arm around the teen instead. “You destroyed a soul shard in your Second year, I believe. The diary you mentioned, remember? The one in you is gone as well.” He gave Harry a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “As you said, the hugr is our minds, emotions, and will. It’s no surprise then that the Dark Lord is a madman. With each new shard, he has broken away pieces of his emotions and his sanity. But now that we know that he has done this, we can find them and destroy them. Once they are destroyed, the Dark Lord is as mortal as you or me.”
Harry felt tears gather in his eyes and he gave a shaky nod. Greyback leaned in and pressed a kiss against Harry’s forehead. “I’m proud of you, pup. Now leave the rest of this to us, okay? I’ve got my contacts, so we’ll take care of this. I’ll keep you in the loop, but you focus on being a kid. Okay?”
Harry nodded and then looked up at Greyback. “I want to stay,” he whispered. “I don’t want to be a saviour anymore. I want you to be my dad if you want me.”
Greyback actually looked surprised for a split second, but then a wide grin spread across his face. “It would be my honour.”
In the end, Harry decided to not even try to reach out to his former friends or the Headmaster. He was going to stay with the pack and he didn’t want to accidentally bring any unwanted attention to the village. He decided to not even reach out to Sirius or Remus. They might have been friends of his parents, but he barely knew them. And even they had told him to just hold tight and hadn’t tried to keep him in loop. They hadn’t tried to actually get to know him. Maybe he’d reach out one day, but he didn’t feel too guilty about cutting them out of his life. He wanted to live and he didn’t think he could really do that around any of them from his former life.
Then, the next full moon, they held the adoption rite. The resident potionmaker provided a concoction for Harry that had required Fenrir’s blood. The rest of the pack had borne witness to the ceremony, simple as it was. When Harry woke up the next morning, he had to adjust to yet more changes. Though he was thankful that he still had the black hair of his birth father and the green eyes of his mother, Fenrir’s genes had also become apparent. The shape of his face had changed to look more like his new father’s and his bones had ached with his sudden growth spurt. Artair had been certain that once he had grown into his limbs, he’d be much closer to his new father’s stature. As someone who’d always been rather small for his age, Harry had been excited at the prospect.
As summer turned into autumn, Harry joined the lessons that Eadric and the other teens attended. They learned magic in a hands-on way and Harry was so much more interested in the lessons than he had ever been at Hogwarts. And - though he hadn’t wanted to be the wizarding world’s saviour anymore - Harry had always enjoyed his DADA lessons the best. Fenrir - his dad! - said he was a natural protector. Because of this, Harry had started taking lessons to join the úlfhéðnar once he was of age.
The úlfhéðnar were the pack’s warriors, the hunters and the defenders. And though werewolves were long lived, Fenrir had mentioned to Harry about teaching him to one day lead the pack as the Alpha. Harry thought it’d take him a long time to get used to that idea, but for now he was happy. He had his pack, his friends. And, best of all, he had a dad.