Beneath Knockturn Alley's vaulted shadows, pale gloom hung thick as prison bars—cutting off every trace of light and hope from the world beyond.
The street lay dead silent.
Even at midday, that bone-deep chill refused to lift.
"Honestly, you should've spared Dolohov."
"Bloke was sitting on quite the stash..."
Like ghosts peeling free from fog, shadowy figures materialized across the rooftops.
A powerfully built man dropped down. Tommy's deep eyes flickered with surprise.
A breeze swept past.
The tattered cloak clung to limbs that rippled with explosive muscle beneath.
The newcomer stood casually opposite them.
Like a hunter sizing up prey, radiating the kind of cruelty that made your spine crawl.
Arthur's eyes narrowed, breathing quickening with excitement. He recognized something familiar in this one.
"Look at their kit."
"York."
"Bloody enviable, innit? Rich bastards."
The other rooftop figures dropped down too, greedy eyes raking over the Shelbys with undisguised malice.
"Can't underestimate them, can we?"
"Pure-blood nobility—even with just one brat left, they've got depths we never imagined."
"Still... should be pretty worn down by now, yeah?"
Their targeting discussion spread openly, contempt dripping from every word. Cruel, cold gazes tinged crimson.
"Heh..."
Tommy's lips curved slightly, amusement flickering through lowered eyes as he lit his cigar with casual precision.
The curling smoke seemed to grow languid in his careless exhale.
The hostile chatter died instantly. The air itself seemed to freeze.
Cruel gazes swiveled toward Tommy.
"It's daytime, werewolves. If you don't fancy dying, crawl back to your kennels..."
Tommy was a natural Legilimens. No one hid secrets under his gaze.
The werewolves' aggressive posturing? Pathetic theater, nothing more.
That wariness surging from their cores reeked like rot—nearly suffocating.
Facing these sudden enemies, Theodore's eyes darkened, but he said nothing.
Drawing his wand, he grabbed a dagger from the shelf and walked straight out of the shop.
He was a Shelby too. Whatever happened, he wouldn't hide behind his brothers.
"Oi, kid—stop!"
A rough, resonant voice exploded beside Theodore's ear like thunder across wilderness.
A bearded Shelby blocked his path, unquestionable seriousness beneath thick whiskers.
The dagger Theodore gripped was easily plucked from his hands and tossed back into the shop.
"No, I'm fighting with you—"
Before Theodore finished, the Shelby drew a Damascus curved blade from behind his waist and pressed it into the boy's hands.
"You should use this!"
Looking at the savagely grinning Shelby, Theodore gripped the blade's handle. His lips curved.
"You're right."
"This is what a Shelby should carry."
"Ha!"
Seeing this, surrounding Shelbys burst into laughter, broad hands ruffling Theodore's hair with rough affection.
"How about we make a deal."
Werewolf leader York's pupils contracted.
Whether Tommy's soul-piercing gaze or the Shelbys' utterly unconcerned attitude—both stirred wariness in him. He regretted appearing here.
If this turned violent, the werewolves would win. But the cost would be unacceptable.
Too many eyes watched from Knockturn Alley's shadows.
"There's nothing to discuss, werewolf."
Tommy shook his head slightly, gaze darkening.
If it were anyone else, he might've had interest. But these were werewolves—the Shelbys' mortal enemies.
From the moment they appeared, the answer was decided.
Besides, York's so-called "business" involved his youngest brother. A child who'd just found home.
"We've been waiting for you mutts a long time."
The Shelbys surrounded them, restless breathing transforming into sinister chuckles.
Madmen...
York's expression turned ugly.
At his raised signal, the other werewolves cursed, then downed vials of potion.
Agonized howls burst from throats. Tattered cloaks tore as needle-like fur erupted, muscles swelling into beast-like contours. The last glimmer of humanity vanished from their eyes.
"Arooooo!"
A piercing howl shattered silence.
Post-transformation, the werewolves lost all reason. With frenzied roars, they charged the Shelbys.
The Shelbys showed no weakness.
Arthur plunged into the wolf pack first, greatsword whistling through air with fierce winds, carving through flesh and blood.
Mad collisions echoed endlessly.
Both sides moved like uncontrolled beasts. Every dull impact and roar conveyed brutal force—claws and blades crossing, sparking tiny fires.
Annie Shelby leaped airborne, trying to pierce a werewolf's throat. She was knocked down instead.
Saliva-coated fangs struck toward her neck—blocked by Protego rune symbols. Claws followed, tearing frantically.
In an instant, the ripples shattered.
Another layer emerged.
"Damn it!"
Mike Shelby punched a werewolf away and hauled his sister up. Before he could do anything else, the knocked-down werewolf howled and pounced again, crimson eyes filled with bestial fury.
They rolled across ground, grappling with limbs' strength, trying to break through defenses and kill.
As a speed enhancer, John moved swiftly through the melee with several Shelbys, providing cover. The werewolf on Mike was violently knocked away by his charge.
Facing the werewolves' near-mad strength and agility, all the Shelbys felt tremendous pressure.
"Sons of bitches!"
"Watch for their weak spots!"
Victor Shelby rolled and leaped up, pulling his machete from a werewolf's abdomen. His breathing grew heavy.
The Shelby family had studied all werewolf weaknesses. But even having lost reason, the werewolves still protected their vulnerabilities carefully.
Angry roars and howls rose and fell.
"Suits don't fit you anymore."
"Whether you're Squib or wizard, I'll turn you into the same kind of mutt as me."
Werewolf York was the only one maintaining reason.
He kept closing on Tommy, saliva seeping from wrinkled, trembling nostrils. Fangs bared.
"Try it..."
As if sensing something, Tommy's lips curved. He stopped dodging, instead showing a gentle, elegant smile.
"You'll regret this!"
With an angry roar, York leaped up, sharp claws slashing toward Tommy's throat.
Tommy removed his cigar. Exhaled smoke lightly.
At close range, rushing wind came from behind Tommy. Like a falling meteor, knuckle-dusters bristling with five spikes smashed hard toward York's skull.
A piercing shriek squeezed from his throat.
York crashed back into the crowd like a cannonball. John stumbled, nearly struck by the flying wolf body.
"Oi, watch it! Tiger!"
Hearing his brother's disgruntled protest, Tiger twisted his stiff neck, producing sharp cracks.
"The ones who should be careful are these mutts..."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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