Chapter Text
He tried to ignore it.
He tried so desperately to ignore it.
…..
But he was so, so hungry.
He knew why.
Knew how to stop it.
He wished he didn’t.
He wished he had never gone to the Goblins.
Never sought out answers to his new hunger.
It was only once.
Only a little.
He and Hermione swore never to talk about it again.
But it turned out that it was enough to trigger a long dormant inheritance.
Alone in the middle of nowhere in winter, they hadn’t been able to enter any populated areas for weeks thanks to Volermort’s followers and the snatchers.
They hadn’t been able to restock their food supplies, there was little to hunt.
They were starving when a snatcher had found them.
They would have died if they hadn’t.
They’d swore to never speak of it.
If anyone asked, they would say they got lucky, that they came across a deer by pure chance.
No one questioned a missing snatcher.
He was just added to the list of the dead.
Once enough time had passed after the war he and Hermione planned to seek a mind healer to alter or remove the memories.
But before they reached that time.
The hunger started.
No matter what he ate, no matter how much.
He was hungry.
Always hungry.
And it slowly got worse.
Hermione had dragged him to a Goblin healer, knowing what his hunger could be linked to and knowing the Goblins would not care what they had done.
A blood and inheritance test late and they had revealed the dark truth.
His great, great, great Grandfather had been a Wendigo, a Ravenstag.
The inheritance had lain dormant for generations.
But it was powerful and patient.
All it would take to awaken was a bite of human meat.
Harry’s Ravenstag was waking up.
And it was ravenous.
Harry locked himself away in Grimwald Palace after the discovery while Hermione went in search for information, on a cure, on a way to supress the monster.
He’d lasted a month before it was too much.
Harry had kept telling himself it would only be one, just one.
He couldn’t cope with the hunger any more.
He was careful, he searched (hunted) for someone who would deserve to die, to be eaten.
He had found his target in a muggle newspaper.
He used legilimency to find him.
A paedophile who had gotten away on a technicality, allowed to roam the streets a free man.
He hadn’t stood a chance against Harry.
He had promised himself it would only be one.
But oh.
It was delicious.
The best thing he had ever eaten.
He had gorged himself on the body until only the bones remained.
Something had shifted in Harry when he had awoken the next day.
The Wendigo was awake.
Harry no longer cared after that.
He hid what he did.
He convinced Hermione that one of her spells had worked, that the monster was asleep once again.
He spent his days as the Harry that all his friends knew.
But when night fell.
He hunted.
He unlocked his creature form, a medium pitch-black stag, covered in soft raven like feathers, two antlers with razor sharp points to pin and stab, a mouth hiding sharp teeth to bite and tear.
He still kept to his code that had been made that first hunt.
Only those who deserved it.
The monsters hiding under a human skin.
The ones the muggle justice system let free because of technicalities, money, evidence, reputation.
He hunted.
And he fed.
A year passed before he felt something new.
A longing.
For what he didn’t know.
So off to the Goblins he went again.
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“I’m a what?”
The Goblin healer looked like he was done with having to deal with dumb beings for the day.
He sighed and spoke slowly as if speaking to a child, “You’re a doe,” the Goblin summoned a book to himself, “after the turning, a Wendigo will typically take around a year to mature into their second gender.” He looked to Harry to see a blank stare.
The Goblin rolled his eyes, “Wedigo’s second genders are split into two categories, buck and doe” he flicked through the book until he found the anatomy diagrams and passed it to a stunned Harry, tapping the image depicting a doe.
“Buck’s are generally the protectors, they protect the territory and fight challengers, intruders, threats, etcetera. Doe’s, while still being just as fierce as a buck, tend towards looking after the territory, helping stabilize their buck and carrying and caring for their fawns.”
Harry let out a squeak.
“Fawns! You mean babies? I can get pregnant?”
The Goblin scowled, “Yes, I just explained that.”
Harry shook his head, information now, crisis later.
“What does this have to do with the ‘longing’ feeling?”
“Ah” the Goblin tapped the book, several pages turning before settling, “Wendigo have what has been come to be known by as ‘soulmates’, or for Wendigo it is more potential soulmate. Once both sides of the pair have matured, the doe will develop feelings of longing or emptiness, while the buck will feel a calling, an instinct that will lead the buck straight to their potential doe.”
The Goblin paused, Harry spotted something on the organized desk buzzing.
The Goblin snaped its fingers and a sheet appeared in his hands.
“You’re appointment has ended, the book contains everything you need to know, I have added the price to your bill,” he handed the paper to a gaping Harry who was trying to process the new information, “You can pay at the front.” The Goblin waved to open the door, “Good day.”
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Hannibal had been alive for a long, long time.
He had also been alone for most of it.
After his sister, no one had ever been worthy of being let in, let close.
He had hope, many years back, for a doe.
He’d followed the call.
But it was all for nought.
The doe may have been compatible with his buck.
But her true nature had earned her slaughter.
Arrogant, so sure of herself, only seeing him for his status and wealth.
He had tried to walk away from her, even with his diastase of her, there were so few of their kind roaming the world.
But oh.
She had been completely out of tune with her instincts, ignored the polite but blatant rejection of a buck.
She’d made a beautiful tableau.
There had been no other call after that.
Years had passed.
Nothing.
His want of companionship had led him to his newest fascination.
Will Graham.
He was almost perfect.
Hannibal just had to push him a little further.
Will was pure muggle, would never be a Wendigo.
But would make a wonderful companion for many years.
It was almost time.
Everything was in place.
But then.
A call.
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Hedwing landed on her chick’s back, giving a little grumble as the young Wendigo let out another groan.
He was sulking, although he had called it lamenting before when the bushy haired human had accused him of having a sulk.
She was unimpressed with her human’s state, he should be getting ready, preparing for his potential mate.
She clicked her beak.
Her chick deserved a good mate to take care of him and help to protect him from all the danger that seemed to follow him.
She let out a little coo, and give him his own chicks.
Yes, her Harry would like chicks of his own.
Now.
To get the boy moving.
He had to look presentable.
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Oh.
It.
Beautiful.
Harry stared at the scene in amazement.
A muggle case brought to the Auras attention.
An unusual murder.
Art.
Harry should be describing it as morbid, horrific, grotesque.
But he couldn’t.
Harry swallowed and attempted to force his facial expression into something more appropriate.
He hadn’t expected this.
The book had mentioned courting displays but this…..
Love.
Devotion.
Promise.
Adoration.
All for him.
Harry shivered, hoping it would be taken as revulsion.
The longing had ceased.
His buck had answered the call.
He ripped himself away from his gift, a pang going though his heart with the realisation it would be impossible to keep.
He had to prepare.