Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures - H.P.S.T Chapter 1516: The Taste of Blood

A point of light flickered, appearing from the tip of Evan’s wand.

At a speed visible to the naked eye, the glow grew brighter, becoming more radiant and dazzling by the second.

Soon, the light became almost blinding, tracing a luminous arc through the air with Evan’s motion.

His wand swept upward from below, slashing diagonally toward the oncoming werewolf.

The silver-white trail lingered in midair, radiating powerful magical energy.

It did not move forward, nor did it dissipate, but just stayed in the air, stopping at the place where Evan’s wand had passed.

It was not a Stunning Spell. It wasn’t the deadly Avada Kedavra, nor was it…

Evan had simply drawn a line of light through the air, seemingly light and effortless, as though he were waiting for Fenrir Greyback to run into it himself.

What was going on? What kind of magic was this?

There was no time to think. In a flash of lightning, everyone saw Greyback charge right up to Evan and Hermione, his body actively colliding with the silver-white light in the air. Greyback was so fast that even if he saw Evan’s magic, he couldn’t dodge it.

Everything was just as Evan had planned. Greyback collided with his magic at an astonishing speed. Everyone held their breath and waited for the next scene, but nothing happened. Greyback didn’t even pause, and didn’t even slow down his sprint.

Evan’s magic had no visible effect on him. Greyback howled and roared furiously as he burst through the light, rushing straight at Evan with terrifying speed. His hideous and terrifying expression was filled with incomparable hatred. He waved his hands randomly, his long yellow nails made hearts clench with fear, and those wolf-like fangs glinted menacingly.

The werewolf lunged forward, jaws wide, ready to bite down with all his strength.

The sharp fangs were about to sink into Evan’s neck!

Dear God — what was happening?!

Had Evan’s spell… failed?!

How could it be possible, but all the students of Gryffindor saw this shocking scene.

They cried out in disbelief, unable to comprehend how Evan hadn’t stopped Greyback. Some of the more timid students had already covered their eyes, unable to bear watching.

Even Evan himself seemed momentarily stunned. He remained in place, still in the same position, staring at the charging werewolf that was about to bite him. It was too late to do anything now.

At such close range, unless he could Apparate away at lightning speed, Evan had no way to escape. If Greyback bit down…

Judging by Greyback’s expression, he intended to rip Evan apart with his own jaws.

At the last moment, Evan just turned his body to the left, blocking Hermione’s sight so that she could not see Greyback in front of her. This seemed to be the only thing he could do before he died, to prevent Hermione from seeing the terrible scene and the terrifying moment that was to come.

Even if he died, Evan would protect Hermione.

Greyback had no intention of letting Hermione go. He had already made up his mind: once he tore Evan to pieces, he would lock Hermione — now infected and on her way to becoming a werewolf — together with Evan’s corpse. He intended to continue his “interesting experiment.” This was far more entertaining than dissecting corpses in some underground crypt.

That was what the werewolf was thinking; he was just about to taste the sweetness of revenge.

Three years ago, if Sirius hadn’t shown up so suddenly, he would have already ripped these two apart.

He had let them live for three years. Now it was time to end this farce.

Greyback could already see the veins on Evan’s neck. He could even smell the delicious scent of blood.

Yes, the smell of blood.

So vivid, so tempting, and getting stronger and stronger!

Delicious …delicious … the werewolf was completely lost in the scent. He opened his gaping, bloody jaws. …

The next second, his body suddenly froze in the air.   

A painful expression appeared on the ghost-like face. Greyback stared at Evan, who was so close, with hatred, and turned his head unwillingly, as if he was looking for something. Yes, he was looking for something, looking for what he had lost!

Soon, he realized what he had lost.

Fenrir Greyback was horrified to see that his body had split into two parts.

With the inertia of the forward rush, his upper body had rushed towards Evan and Hermione, but his lower half had remained, right where Evan had drawn the white line of light. It had not moved another inch.

Blood!

So delicious, so tempting!

But it was indeed his own blood!

It gushed out from the gaping wound at his waist; the scent he had smelled earlier had been his own.   

“So much blood … what a waste!”

This was the last thought of Fenrir Greyback, the King of Werewolves. …

…………………………………………………………………………..

At the top of the Astronomy Tower, Harry still couldn’t move.

Paralyzed with fear, his eyes remained wide open, fixed on the three Death Eaters who had burst in.

One of them, a lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer, gave a wheezy giggle.   

“Look, Dumbledore cornered!” he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. “Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!”   

“Good evening, Amycus,” said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. “And you’ve brought Alecto too. … Charming …”   

“Still the same, my dear professor!” The woman gave an angry little titter. “Think your little jokes’ll help you on your deathbed then?”   

“Jokes? No, no, these are manners,” replied Dumbledore.   

“You were too slow!” Malfoy muttered discontentedly.   

“There are more guards down there than we thought. Our action plan seems to have been leaked, but those Fenrir and his wolf cubs have bought us some time,” said the last Death Eater, his face thick and brutish, with a menacing look. “Now, do it, Draco!”   

“I…” Malfoy swallowed hard, showing less resolution than ever. He looked terrified as he stared into Dumbledore’s face, which was even paler, and rather lower than usual, as he had slid so far down the rampart wall.   

He couldn’t even hold onto his Twin Snake Staff anymore, and put it aside obliquely.   

“Don’t be nervous, Draco. He’s not long for this world anyway, if you ask me!” said the lopsided man, to the accompaniment of his sister’s wheezing giggles. “Look at him — what’s happened to you, then, Dumby?”   

“Oh, weaker resistance, slower reflexes, Amycus,” said Dumbledore. “Old age, in short … One day, perhaps, it will happen to you … if you are lucky. …”   

“What’s that mean, then, what’s that mean?” yelled the Death Eater, suddenly violent. “Always the same, weren’t yeh, Dumby, talking and doing nothing, nothing. I don’t even know why the Dark Lord’s bothering to kill yer! Now that I see it… it all seems pointless. Come on, Draco, do it! We don’t have much time. Those troublesome guys below are about to come up!”

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