Novelas y relatos de Fenrir Harry Potter

He is Fenrir Hasting, trainer of the Amory. “Hello, Fenrir, it is nice to meet you, but I am not sure what just happened. I was joking around, then felt a spike of rage, then they kneeled in submission and the rage disappeared. I keep having moments that happen, but I cannot control them like I am a passenger in my body.” The Fenrir is a title that is given to the lead trainer of the Amory. The Fenrir title runs in the genetic line. The same line produces the Jormungandr. They are usually brothers from the stories I remember hearing as a child. I wonder when I will meet him.

But then, the worst thing happened. One huge hybrid homunculus—this is what Fenrir called it when he ran towards us as this huge beast tried to kill him—came with a huge, eerie grin plastered on its distorted face. It is ten times.. and I really meant it! Ten times more ugly and eerie than the upgraded ones. “I am so tired! I thought we finished all of them already!” Tori ranted, and the hybrid instantly snapped its head towards her and flicked its fingers. Everyone screamed as Tori was swept towards the castle walls.

Instead, a dark chuckle slipped past his lips, taunting me. “Liar!” He roared, slamming me into the wall once again. I was blinded by the pain, the walls cracking against his pure strength. Blood trickled from my temple and my chin, my vision hazy, but I could clearly see the gleam of his amber eyes. “The crest of Fenrir is forged from the first flame. It can’t be destroyed by ordinary fire, not even a dragon’s breath can dent it.” He continued, raising me high above the ground.

"Why are you acting so strangely? It's fine if you don't want to talk, but stop pretending to be someone else!" "I am a different person!" Fenrir, or Draca, whoever he was at that moment, yelled at me. "I've already told you that I'm not him. I wanted to talk to you, but you're making it difficult for me, and I hate it!" He gritted his teeth and pointed his finger at me. "I wish I had a way to show you who I truly am," he muttered, but then his expression shifted, and he started smiling. "I could... fuck you right now and make you scream my name, so you..."

No eyes. Yet I knew it was looking at me. Winter took a step back. “That’s… not one of the hunters.” “No,” Oragon said grimly. “That’s a Seeker.” Fenrir’s magic flared instantly, silver light tracing ancient patterns along his arms. His posture changed—taller, sharper, commanding in a way that made the air itself respond. “Elven authority,” he said coldly. “State your purpose.” The Seeker tilted its head.

“Raiker and I managed to escape. We hid in the labyrinth and masked our scents.” There was a moment of silence before he continued. “At first, I hated Fenrir.” The pause carried a weight that almost made me tremble. “Maybe that’s why he chose me.” I frowned. “What do you mean?” Daimon leaned in. The movement was slow and calculated. His hand touched my chin, forcing me to look at him. The warmth of his skin against mine sent an electric shock through my body. His touch was firm. Commanding. “Fenrir is not an ordinary wolf.” His voice was low, almost a murmur. But every word carried something dense and dangerous. “He is fiercer. More brutal. Thirsty for blood and flesh.”

I close my eyes, lean in, trying to get it over with quickly. My nose brushed her skin, and everything went wrong. Her scent hit my nose, artificial, and wrong. Fenir doesn't move, “no.” He explodes. The words aren't mine. It tears through my throat as my body locks mid motion, my fingers curl as my claws come out, tearing through my leather gloves. Inside me Fenir rises, my instinct and force very furious, not ours he growls out. Fenrir doesn't even regard her as a human. He sees an intruder.. A threat trying to take what's not even hers.

“You will take his place in his broken, dishonored form.” No. No, that wasn’t possible. “You’re insane,” I said, looking at Fenris. “Both of you. Blood magic like this—it’ll destroy you. It’ll corrupt everything it touches.” “On the contrary, it’ll give me everything I deserve.” Fenris crouched in front of me, his face inches from mine. “I’ll be Arthur Hendrix, alpha of the strongest pack in the northern region. I’ll have your authority, your reputation, your mate. I will have everything.” He had a dreamy look on his face. My brother had officially gone insane. Who would think of such a thing?

But theories spurred out that when the demon lord had died the creatures were bound to where they were upon his death and weren’t permitted to even move an inch from their location. “I have a question…” “I will not answer” The wolf declared. Fenrir had abilities beyond that of the normal known magic to humans, thus he could communicate with Lyon directly with his brain being able to read the boy’s mind. He could even see through whatever he was thinking or even the slightest change in his ideals. “Are you afraid of answering?” Lyon asked. “No. I already know your question. And I will not bother myself to give you an obscure answer”

He scrubbed as if trying to scrape the remnants of the mania from his very soul. As he stepped out, clean and stinging, he poured himself a glass of wine. He mulled over the strange feeling that had finally broken the uncontrolled, bloodthirsty rage that plagued him. Another unexpected thing had happened, too: for the first time in ages, he had sensed his inner beast, the Fenrir. It had been silent for so long, yet moments ago, it had commanded him, with startling clarity, to find something. He rubbed his temple and walked out in only a bathrobe. Albert stood right outside the main cabin, clearly waiting. Alaric resisted the urge to roll his eyes.