Run!
RUN!
How could someone like this possibly exist? He'd actually overpowered Ironclaw in pure physical strength, snapping his neck with a single hand as easily as breaking a twig. Was this monster some kind of humanoid giant?
Silverfang had never run this fast in his entire life—not even when Aurors from the Ministry of Magic had nearly caught him three years ago. This time, he was genuinely, viscerally terrified.
BOOM!
Just as Silverfang was fleeing headlong through the darkness, a dark mass suddenly plummeted from the sky, crashing into the ground directly ahead of him. The impact created a massive crater, and the object exploded on contact, flesh and blood splattering throughout the depression in a gruesome spray.
Ironclaw?
Though the body had been utterly pulverized into a bloody mess, Silverfang still recognized his companion from the tattered remnants of clothing and general build.
At that moment, Silverfang heard another thunderous impact behind him.
Whirling around, he saw Sean emerge from the crater created by his landing, rising from the dusty impact site with supernatural ease.
Even now, Sean's ability to achieve controlled flight and landing remained imperfect—a minor issue he needed to address eventually. Fortunately, his enhanced physical capabilities allowed him to land freely from significant heights, albeit somewhat wastefully and inelegantly.
Upon seeing Sean standing there calmly, Silverfang immediately prepared to continue his desperate escape.
But at that precise moment, Sean suddenly let out a soft grunt of surprise. His body began rapidly melting and twisting, features rearranging themselves as he transformed from the unremarkable blonde man in his early thirties back into Sean's true thirteen-year-old appearance.
Only then did Sean realize his critical oversight. When he'd consumed the Polyjuice Potion earlier, he'd carefully calculated the duration to last until his return to Hogwarts. However, the sudden encounter with these two werewolves had completely driven the potion's time limit from his mind. The hour had elapsed, and the transformation had reversed automatically.
He'd overlooked a crucial detail.
What extraordinarily poor timing.
Still, it didn't particularly matter—his opponent was going to die regardless.
Gripping his wand firmly, Sean walked forward step by measured step toward Silverfang's position.
Silverfang, watching Sean approach through the darkness, recognized him immediately. His eyes widened with shocked realization—who else could it possibly be but the very target of their surveillance mission?
"It's you..." Silverfang breathed.
Hearing this confirmation, Sean raised an eyebrow and paused mid-stride. "You know me?" Then, as comprehension dawned, he continued, "Your surveillance target at Hogsmeade—it was actually me all along?"
Looking at Sean's young face, Silverfang suddenly grasped the terrible irony of their situation. This Hogwarts student they'd believed they could easily manipulate, perhaps even kidnap and convert to their cause, possessed utterly terrifying magical and physical strength. Such critical information needed to be relayed to his king immediately!
With that desperate thought, Silverfang turned to flee once more.
But just as he lifted his foot to run, Silverfang suddenly lost his balance completely and crashed face-first onto the hard ground. The next instant, searing agony shot through both legs. Silverfang let out an involuntary howl and looked down at his legs in horror—both had been severed cleanly at the knees, and tremendous amounts of blood were gushing from the stumps.
Sean had casually flicked his wand while his opponent attempted escape. He'd employed Diffindo—the Severing Charm—to remove both legs with surgical precision. He was genuinely grateful that his opponent's magical proficiency wasn't sufficient to have mastered Apparition; otherwise, preventing escape would have proven considerably more challenging.
"You know me, which means I'm your target."
Sean walked deliberately up to Silverfang, looking down at the werewolf writhing on the ground. In the night sky above, a crescent moon hung directly behind Sean's head. His gray eyes appeared cold and utterly indifferent in the pale moonlight. From Silverfang's perspective on the ground, Sean resembled some merciless deity of death, sending chills racing down his spine despite the blood loss.
"Tell me," Sean said quietly. "Who sent you here?"
The cold voice broke through Silverfang's pain-induced haze. He glared up at Sean with hatred and defiance, gritted his teeth against the agony, and suddenly raised his wand with his remaining strength, attempting one final desperate counterattack.
However, against such overwhelming magical superiority, Silverfang's resistance proved utterly meaningless.
A flash of scarlet light streaked through the darkness.
"Expelliarmus!"
Silverfang's wand flew backward in a graceful arc, landing at Sean's feet with a soft thud.
Taking one measured step forward, Sean crushed Silverfang's wand cleanly in two beneath his shoe. Pointing his own wand directly at the dying werewolf, Sean said with perfect calm, "You should understand that in the world of magic, memories are not particularly secure. On the contrary, in the estimation of some wizards, memories represent the least stable and most accessible form of information storage."
"My king will come for you," Silverfang gasped through blood-flecked lips. "And that will be your death!"
"I will reunite him with you soon enough," Sean promised evenly. "You have my word."
"Ahhh!"
Silverfang opened his mouth wide and lunged desperately at Sean with his last reserves of strength, attempting to sink his teeth into flesh one final time.
Before he could even get close, Sean stomped down hard on Silverfang's chest, pinning him firmly to the ground. The brutal impact caused his ribcage to collapse inward with audible cracks, bones shattering and puncturing internal organs. Blood erupted from Silverfang's mouth and nose in a crimson torrent. Clearly, the werewolf was beyond any possibility of survival.
In Silverfang's dying moments, Sean raised his wand calmly, aiming it precisely at the werewolf's blood-soaked head.
"Legilimens!"
Memories flashed before Sean's eyes like scenes from a film reel, playing out in rapid succession.
He witnessed Silverfang's recruitment by Fenrir Greyback. The werewolf king's savage charisma. The discussion of Sean's published Wolfsbane research. Plans to surveil Hogsmeade. Orders to make contact, to persuade, to bite if necessary. The desperate need to bring Sean Bulstrode into Greyback's growing pack.
As Silverfang's life finally guttered out completely, Sean finished extracting every accessible memory from the dying mind.
Looking down at the now-lifeless corpse, Sean took one step backward. His wand traced a deliberate arc through the air, leaving a trail of ethereal fire in its wake.
"Incendio!"
WHOOSH!
Ironclaw's mangled corpse, Silverfang's body, and the severed legs burst into roaring flames simultaneously, quickly reducing to ash and bone fragments.
Having dealt with the immediate evidence, Sean waved his wand again with broad, sweeping gestures. Even more intense flames erupted across the entire wasteland area, consuming every trace of blood, every scrap of fabric, every fragment of bone—burning everything to fine ash without leaving any identifying evidence whatsoever.
After completing this thorough cleansing, Sean used carefully controlled water conjuration to extinguish the flames completely, ensuring not a single spark remained. Black smoke rose around him in thick columns, and using this concealment, he transformed into his White Serpent King form briefly before launching himself into the air, disappearing into the night sky as a pale streak.
When Sean finally returned to Hogwarts, it was already quite late.
He entered the Slytherin common room as silently as possible, fully intending to proceed directly to his private quarters, when he suddenly noticed a familiar figure seated in one of the high-backed chairs near the fireplace.
This figure belonged to the person Sean least wanted to encounter at this particular moment:
Severus Snape.
Quickly composing his expression into something appropriately apologetic and relieved, Sean addressed his Head of House. "I'm sorry, Professor. I've been feeling somewhat overwhelmed lately with the accelerated research schedule, so I slipped out for a brief walk to clear my head."
Snape rose smoothly from the sofa, taking two measured steps forward and emerging from the shadows cast by the dying firelight. In the pale green illumination streaming through the underwater windows, he regarded Sean with his characteristic unreadable expression.
"Sean," Snape said quietly, "do you know the Prior Incantato charm?"
Sean, of course, knew it perfectly well—the Reverse Spell, capable of forcing a wand to reveal its most recent castings.
But how exactly was he supposed to respond to Snape's seemingly random mention of this specific charm?
Before Sean could formulate an appropriate answer, Snape continued speaking with deliberate emphasis. "I have absolutely no interest in knowing what you actually did tonight. However, there are many individuals who very much would want to know—within this school, within the Ministry of Magic, and throughout the entire wizarding world." His dark eyes bored into Sean's. "You need to understand how to properly defend against the Prior Incantato charm and similar investigative techniques."
Snape paused, allowing his words to sink in fully.
"Also," he added with characteristic curtness, "come to my office tomorrow at noon precisely and deliver your completed paper. Don't forget."
With that final instruction, Snape swept from the common room without waiting for a response, his black robes billowing dramatically behind him.