The room lay in shambles, with shattered furniture strewn across the dirt floor. Unconscious or paralyzed wizards lay scattered about, while a small pack of wolves moved in synchronized harmony, advancing menacingly toward the intruders.
A young Slytherin watched in dread as the wolves drew near. He had recently departed Hogwarts, following in the footsteps of his family to join the ranks of the Death Eaters. He had heard tales of his brother's glorious battles and how they had sought justice for wizards, labeling Muggles as mudbloods, thieves, and morally bankrupt for daring to wield magic not meant for them. They believed in Voldemort, in the superiority of wizards who should rule the world. But never in his wildest dreams did he imagine it would come to this – Muggles reacting with such fury, one of them transforming into a fearsome magical beast.
The pack of wolves closed in on their immobilized prey. The largest among them attacked ferociously, tearing through organs and ripping off entire limbs with its claws and fangs, while the smaller wolves aimed to cripple the wizards' arms, preventing them from using their wands. The room echoed with the grotesque sounds of flesh being torn apart and bones being shattered as the illusory wolves acted with brutal efficiency, functioning like a well-trained tactical unit.
Four of the seven Death Eaters lay dead or incapacitated, and a young wizard with an iron mask watched helplessly, his paralyzed body rendering him incapable of intervening as he witnessed his comrades being torn apart.
As the wolves drew closer to the central figure among the Death Eaters, their apparent leader, the man could only anticipate his impending demise. His body refused to respond, and his wand, which he had left so tantalizingly close in a holster, remained frustratingly out of reach. A gruesome death seemed all but inevitable.
Seeing the wolves closing in on his brother, the young wizard despaired. He clutched his wand tightly, wishing with all his might that he could somehow save his sibling.
"Please," he prayed.
Just as the wolves were within striking distance, a surge of magic erupted from the young wizard's wand, breaking his paralyzed state.
The young Death Eater shouted, "Not my brother... Protego Maxima!" He cast the most potent spell he knew, imbued with his magic, willpower, desperation, and passion, forming an incredibly powerful shield.
The enormous wolf collided with the shield, and the entire area affected by the spell quivered. Though the shield barely held, it managed to repel the snarling beast.
Undeterred, the wolf prepared for an even more devastating attack. Following her instincts, she began to tap into some of the demonic essence within her, accumulating demonic energy in her front paws until it shone brilliantly, then launched another ferocious strike against the shield.
Cracks appeared in the second assault, and the shield shattered with far less resistance, striking the man's face and destroying his mask, leaving a gruesome gash across his features.
The excruciating pain snapped him out of paralysis, and with great effort, he reached for his wand. He observed the furious wolf, intent on finishing what it had started, and Apparated next to his brother, sacrificing an arm during his hasty teleportation.
He administered emergency treatment to his severed arm and used a spell to manage the pain. Once again fit for combat, he prepared for the impending battle.
Witnessing the dire situation, the young wizard did not lose hope. He was a highly skilled combatant, maintaining his composure and swiftly releasing his last companion from paralysis using the "Finite Incantatem" spell.
The three regrouped to face the wolves, but the battle had taken a toll on them, and their adversaries proved to be formidable.
However, the Death Eater wearing a silver mask with demonic features couldn't resist taunting his savior.
Demon Mask: "Lestrange, you're quite talented. Perhaps your fiery wife has given you some lessons in the Dark Lord's bed." His tone was mocking, and his mask's appearance could incite instant hatred.
Rodolphus turned to him, unruffled by the jibe. "Avada Kedavra, you wretch."
The green flash narrowly missed the man's nose, but he appeared unperturbed by the near-death experience.
Demon Mask: "Don't be so tense. We all know you're not the man for that woman. She'll use you and then discard you for someone better, just like Voldemort." He enjoyed teasing his friend, though Rodolphus certainly did not share such sentiments.
"Enough of this nonsense," Rabastan intervened before the situation escalated further. The tension between the two was already unbearable, and he had been injured during the conflict.
Rabastan: "We have more pressing matters to attend to." He redirected their focus to the urgent problem at hand.
The wolves watched them with snarling rage, having finished off the rest of their comrades.
...
The city lay in ruins, consumed by flames. In the remnants of a once-happy family home, sinister laughter echoed as a woman tortured the last resident, an 11-year-old boy, until his screams finally ceased. He was free from the torment, at least.
In this macabre theater of tragedy, the Beautiful Actress was a woman donning a hood and a silver mask that resembled a face, albeit with its mouth sewn shut. Adorned with thorny rose symbols, the mask had a disturbing beauty, suited to certain tastes but instilling nothing but dread, cruelty, and death in her victims' eyes.
Lady in the Mask: "What a shame. You can't play any longer." She departed with an almost playful bounce, her city still teeming with actors eager to engage with her. She would indulge each of them, just as the Dark Lord did with her every day.
Similar gruesome scenes played out in the city, abandoned by any divine intervention.
In the midst of it all, a solitary man, his handsome appearance marred by cruelty, with red eyes and pale skin, relished the unfolding chaos as if it were a performance to be savored. The stage was set, and he awaited the arrival of his dearest enemies, preparing for the next act of his dark masterpiece.
The man trembled with delight as he sensed the arrival of his guests, heralding the commencement of the next act, just a little longer, he thought.
...
In an instant, a group of men in matching attire materialized, but they were greeted by a deadly curse. Fortunately, one of the illusory wolves leaped in front of the curse, shielding the Aurors from certain death.
Alastor Moody: "Blast those bastards! They've caused enough havoc already." His eyes scanned the city with mounting anger.
Adam McKinnon: "So many lives lost already. HURRY UP! We can't afford to waste any more time!" He shouted to rally everyone, his focus unwavering. The victims would have to wait; their priority was to hunt down the Death Eaters.
Edgar Bones: "Gentlemen, split into teams of at least five and apprehend them." He urged swift organization, mindful that much time had already elapsed.
The Auror knights swiftly arranged themselves into teams and Apparated to various locations within the city.
...
Vincent felt a pang of regret as he watched the opportunity slip away. They had managed to kill four Death Eaters and left one teetering on the brink of death. He concealed himself in a corner, masterfully controlling his illusory wolves. Part of his plan had succeeded, and now he had to deal with the remaining adversaries, reserving his greatest trump card for last.
The wolves moved with agility, but their enemies cast spells at lightning speed, making it challenging to approach. Recognizing the perilous situation, Vincent shifted his attack strategy to a defensive stance. He made the wolves corporeal to intercept dangerous spells, whether for Rose or the unconscious individuals in the room, infuriating the Death Eaters.
Demon Mask: "Damn these pests! They won't die, no matter how many spells hit them. And they can turn incorporeal." His expression seethed with irritation.
Rodolphus: "Concentrate your fire on that big wolf. She used to be a woman; there must be some spell that can bring her down." He redirected his spells toward the Great Wolf.
Demon Mask: "As if that were easy, my cuckold friend." His wand unleashed a barrage of spells.
"Enough of this!" Rodolphus snapped, refusing to escalate the feud. However, Rabastan intervened, aware that tensions ran high, and he was already injured.
Rabastan: "We have more important matters to attend to."
The wolves, who had been snarling in rage, continued to watch their adversaries, seemingly unrelenting.
...
Vincent was relieved that his plan had somewhat succeeded, with the Aurors arriving just in time. If he had been in his demonic form, it would have been difficult to deal with the aftermath.
Gathering the wolves closer to Rose, Vincent preserved their essence, leaving the Aurors to confront the Death Eaters on his behalf.