Fenrir Harry Potter Novels & Stories

Nine was their sacred number since it connected the nine realms that existed within Yggdrasil. “I choose Gungnir, the great spear of Odin, Angurvadal, the stream of anguish, Gram, who brought death to Fafnir, Freyr’s sword, to fight when I am weak, Dáinsleif, to inflict wounds that never heal, Lævateinn, so that my step will never falter, Skofnung, the supernatural blade, Hǫfuð, the great sword of Heimdall and lastly Mjolnir.” Malachi chose his nine gifts and the rest were returned to the vault. These gifts would be sent to his house in Seward and he knew Jessica would banish them to his study.

His frown grows even deeper when he drags his gaze down to the words written below the drawing—the Fenrir wolf. The name alone feels heavy and dangerous on Kieran’s tongue, like saying it out loud would invite trouble. Quickly, his eyes skim the first few lines below the name—ancient, devours without end, cannot be contained, bloodthirsty, dangerous— “What are you doing here?”

The cold seemed to come from everywhere. “Was it her?”Polly asked.”The woman in the portrait,the one I showed you?” “No,”Ginny said,obviously fighting back the hot tears stinging at her eyes.”It was someone else.Something else.Something dark and evil.After I was dressed,I sat in front of the mirror,to put my lipstick on and I saw her in it,she came out of the wall,filthy and haggard..she smiled..her teeth were rotten and she pointed her finger towards me…I was so frightened Polly,there were shadows all around her.She was evil.Whatever is in this house is evil…pure evil!”

“Tell me, why do you truly want him dead?” Fenrir stopped walking. His hair caught in the wind as he faced Alaric once more. “There’s something inside him. Something wrong. One Hekate is enough for this world. Better to end it all now before it consumes him.” His surreal green eyes dropped to Alaric’s fingers that had begun trembling and he smiled, amused. “You do realize that unless there’s an intervention, you’re going to die.”

A blade of pure nothingness caught Fenrir across the chest, carving through his ancient armor as if it were parchment. Fenrir was thrown back, staggering into the gray dust. He collapsed to one knee, coughing up blood—but it wasn't the vibrant red of a living being. It was dark, tainted, and thick with the rot of the void. He looked up at me, his eyes clouded with a pain I had never seen in him. "Seraphina…" he wheezed, his voice a ghost of its former strength. "Its power… it far surpasses anything I held. Even at my peak, I was just a door… this is the room beyond."

The male figure nods his head proudly and says- “Human. Are you aware those legends apply in real time too? Take a look and tell me what you would call me?” Akihiko glances over the male figure’s body and says- “You’re a yokai… Fenrir, the…” and before he could complete his sentence the male interrupts and says loudly, “Yes! I am Fenrir, the Silv…” and Akihiko continues regardless, “… dog!” There is a brief moment of silence in the hallway and then Fenrir the male figure leans into Akihiko’s face and says- “I’ll kill you if you compare me to that inferior creature.”

This she could deal with, cursed objects were her specialty. “Let me take it out, open your mouth. Trust me.” She said and he would, he really, really would but unless he was a wolf it wasn’t coming out. He’d love for her to do it. Just hearing her say it made him want to, but he doubted that it would work in their favor. The pressure on his mind was trying to make him shift. Trying to force his hand. Fenrir decided right then and there that he was going to kill Surt the moment he saw the giant. This was hell and that thing wasn’t going to own him like the rest had. He’d devour the world on his own, not when someone forced his hand.

Yet, a flicker of curiosity burned within me, an insatiable thirst for the truth that transcended my apprehension. As the seconds stretched into an eternity, he drew in a steadying breath, his gaze fixed on a distant point as if seeking strength from the very horizon. And then, with a measured resolve, his lips parted to release the syllables that held a power both feared and revered: "Fenrir."

His hands slipped to his sides. His eyes went cold. Murderous. The shadows stirred around us. Someone sighed behind me, probably Martha. It was her house, I could tell now. I didn’t look back. Not now. Fenrir was angry because I had apologized. And the curse wouldn't wait for him to think it through. “Will you help me?” His eyes did not soften. “Oh, I will.” His voice was full of menace. How exactly was he planning to help me in this mood?

but yeah, not looking over there again. Then it happens. A howl rips through the sky—deep, savage. A massive black wolf, taller than a man, lands in the middle of the chaos. His fur ripples in strange patterns. His ears are jagged points. Fenrir. His size alone paralyzes me. But then I see his path—he’s heading for Bella and Citra. “NO! BELLA!” I scream. But the noise drowns me out. I ready a fire spell—useless. It bounces right off him.