FicWad

Working Title - The Darkness Howls
Act 2 -Darkness Comes



Lost.. Fear.. Loneliness..

The first day was the worst in the young child's life. Burning scorching unforgiving sun beat down upon him, hammering his baby face. The night was worse. Cold chilling death crept up his veins. He didn't understand. No close love to go off. No other experiences to draw on. No parents to watch out or teach him different. Of course he would consider the creatures that came to him, provided for him as allies. As Friends.

Cuddled for the first times that he remembered in gloriously warm fir at night, taught to take clean water at the drinking pool before midday. He learned.

He began to enjoy the taste of raw meat, he squabbled with his pack brothers like the others did, making good use of his claws and his running ability. His legs weren't that much different to the recurved hind legs of his brothers. He did not yet understand that he was still different.

For years he learned. Survived. Fed. Drank. Fought. It was only when the natural urges took him did he start realising that he was different than his brothers and their mates. He could do things his brothers and sisters couldn't. He didn't mate even though he tried with reluctant females in heat. No offspring to speak of, which led to the inevitable fights with dominant males trying to kick him out of the pack. He won. He always won.

The hunters came for him and he killed and fled. The pattern repeating itself for years as he migrated naturally north. Legends of a man-beast left in his wake. One who could walk on hind legs but still retained the ferocity, brutal strength and canine nature of his pack brothers.

Villages had paid bounties to travelling hunters in the hopes that they could kill him and protect their own. Hunters tracked the legend in search of glory. Those that found him found only death or tracks.

Times he had tried to approach villages without hate only to be driven away again by people in two's, three's. So few that he would come back and try again but eventually would be driven away in force. He didn't try again. Years past.

Taken in by some wizards on the plains of Sudan who were trying to contact their animagi spirit's he had learnt the ways of man. He learnt the deviousness, betrayal and greed associated with the worst of this kind. He suffered abuse, was used and finally when he felt he could learn no more, torn them to pieces on the full moon in a feeding frenzy of shadows, blood and flesh. The moon seemed to bless him with extra strength so he naturally offered up some sacrifices to it. This object of howling adulation.

Semi civilised the young Fenrir came to the United Kingdom and found the seedier sides of small wizarding settlements. They seemed to understand, those few that he found with a lighter scent than he had. Those special friends. Amongst the zenith of the moon they did what they wanted to the others. The non magical ones. Not too many he was told and never in the same place so as not to arouse suspicion. His hunting changed, he adapted to this new environment well. No alpha challenged him openly.




During the first open rise of a Great Dark Master, Fenrir had never known such gluttony. He served no one and revelled in the fear, savagery and his growing bloodthirsty reputation. The Lord of the Moon was now his self proclaimed title that he bestowed upon himself in his twenty first year. His pack of mere werewolves all accepted him unequivocally as their Lord and Master. Fenrir didn't bow to anyone but worked as a mercenary leader for anyone that was mad enough to conduct business with him.

As his pack grew he came to realise that the city of Hogsmeade was his favourite hunting ground. His lair in the sewers enabled him to conduct raids on the pathetic wizards above and conceal his tracks among their filth. No longer did he need to bargain with wizards light or dark. Fenrir did as he felt like.

That all changed when the Dark One fell. Auror battalions swept the partially destroyed city of Hogsmeade and did not rest until they had dispatched most dark creatures from it in the Great Purges. Vampires, werewolves, goblins and any other creature that didn't comply with the Ministry was run out of the city and any wizarding settlement. Many of his pack died as they fought individually their hideouts, businesses and places of rest were burned and they were put to the sword or chased into the night.

Fenrir was one of the few that migrated ahead of the purges. After all he had escaped the hunters in Africa and these wizards were nothing on them. After a few more years he got an interesting offer after biting and turning a young wizard called Lupin. He listened to this offer of help from this mysterious third party to set up once again in Hogsmeade. He accepted and once again went to Hogsmeade.

In Hogsmeade it took the Aurors a few years to figure out a pattern and a Department was formed to investigate. The Control of Dark Creatures Office of the Ministry of Magic did look into the "Wolves of Hogsmeade" allegations by a few businessman but couldn't find any evidence of a pack of wolves operating in the area. The Quibbler painted a picture of a werewolf but as usual was ignored by everyone. The Department had bigger fish to fry in the form of a few Vampire covens and problems with neighbouring Giant populations and so Fenrir, or at least the murders he had committed, were ignored for a while.

In the run up to this Christmas though, Fenrir was irritated. This spelled a few extremely violent, body dismembering murders to happen upon the city of Hogsmeade. Enough for the Quibbler and the Prophet to once again talk about a wolf pack attacking Hogsmeade. However Fenrir had once again got a pack together of lycanthrope infected wizards and was conducting more mundane robberies, extortion and other crimes to subsidise his rise to power. He dominated the mere werewolves with the massive physical power, nearly unlimited regeneration and vicious lust for blood that separated a Greater Wolfwere from a werewolf like a love tap from a fifty pound sledgehammer. To say nothing of the fact that he could do what all werewolves dreamed of and all Aurors feared: he could transform at will. Fenrir, the once heir of the Marshall Family, and his horde, the Wolves of the Red Moon, were set upon a yuletide terror spree against the unsuspecting citizens of Hogsmeade.