Rain smeared the glass towers of Chicago as we stepped out of the white flash — three strangers in a city that didn't care. Neon flickered off rain-slick streets, car horns bellowed, and somewhere a train rattled overhead like a dragon in the dark.
Draco spun in a circle, arms flung wide. "Jon! Look at this! Merlin's sweaty socks — we're in the future!"
Daphne arched a frosty brow. "It's the present, genius. Just not our present."
I clapped Draco on the back before he danced into traffic. "Welcome to the 21st century, Malfoy. Try not to get run over."
Draco grabbed my sleeve, bouncing like a sugar-high child. "Where's the nearest car dealership? I need a Ferrari, a Lamborghini — no, two Lamborghinis. And a phone. And a microwave."
Daphne tugged at her coat collar, eyeing the passing people. "Modern fashion is... tolerable," she murmured. "Though some of these skirts are barely cloth."
Draco barked a laugh. "Don't look, ice queen. You'll freeze Chicago out of shame."
"Behave," I said, dragging them off the sidewalk before a cab made Draco a hood ornament. "We need a base first."
Draco looked back at the neon jungle. "So, we're just… here? Like this?"
"Aged up," I said. "Legal. Fake papers, digital history. Freyja sorted it."
Daphne raised a brow. "And you trust a cosmic intern with our legal status?"
"More than I trust you two not to set Chicago on fire," I deadpanned.
I led them through streets reeking of oil and street food, past flickering signs and rusty fences, until we reached a crumbling old factory. Paint peeled off bricks like sunburnt skin. Perfect.
"Here," I said. "Our new base."
Draco peered inside. "You bought a haunted factory?"
"I'm resourceful."
"You're cheap," Daphne corrected, smirking.
Inside, the air tasted like rust and dust. Old pipes rattled overhead. I dumped my pack on a broken workbench.
Draco flopped onto a creaky chair. "So, Headmaster Jon — what now?"
I leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. "Now you learn how to bend bullets. Drive cars like devils. Fight with blades, guns, your hands. You'll train until you hate me. You will kill to protect to defend what matters to us."
Draco's grin slipped like melting frost under sunfire. "So we're really talking about killing. No more hexes at safe targets. No petty House duels under Hogwarts stone. Real bodies. Real graves. Real screams that never stop echoing."
"Yes," I said, voice like a drawn blade. "Blood they'd spill anyway — ours, our families', our future children's. We make sure it's theirs instead. We don't flinch. We never freeze."
Draco's eyes burned hotter than a lightning curse. "So be it. For my mother, for Severus and Diana, for Hermione — gods, especially her — for Astoria. For you, Jon. You're the brother I chose in that miserable castle. And for the kids you two are bound to have. I swear they'll know Uncle Draco's the best bad influence alive — teaching them cars, cursing, and where to hide the firewhisky."
Daphne's voice cracked but didn't break, like ice under iron boots. "And how do you not break apart after? How do you stand over it all, Jon?"
"You don't break," I said. "You bend. You carry every ghost until they don't weigh you down anymore. You remind yourself why you're not the one in the dirt."
Draco stepped closer, eyes blazing. "I'd rather drench my hands red than stand at your funeral, or Diana's, or Astoria's, or Hermione's. Or watch your kids grow up asking why Uncle Draco didn't fight. I'll gut that future with my wand and my gun first."
He let out a laugh that crashed through the dead beams. "And when they come for us, they'll find I buried my fear with their bones."
Daphne closed her eyes, the frost monarch's breath shimmering around her fingers. "Then teach me to freeze that fear solid. Let me crack it when they come for mine. Astoria. Mother. Father. You. Us."
Draco's voice dropped lower, a thundercloud waiting to burst. "No mercy for monsters. We become the shadows at their door. The nightmare that hunts the nightmares."
I raised my hand, palm steady. "One vow. No ghosts haunting us. No regrets. No mercy for wolves at the door."
Draco slammed his hand to mine, grin savage as a wolf. "First bullet's mine — for my blood, for Sev, for Diana, for Hermione, for you, for the future. Uncle Draco will keep them laughing even if the world burns around us."
Daphne's hand pressed to ours, frost biting my skin. "First storm's mine — for Astoria, for my family, for you, Jon. For everything we're owed."
Our magic snapped together, crackling frost, thunder, and flame, rattling the rotten pipes like the city itself shivered at our oath.
"Together," I breathed, promise and curse tangled as one. "Always. Whatever it costs."
Draco's grin split wider, wild and free. "And when the corpses cool, we'll take your kids to the muggle auto show and watch them wreck their first engines while you both pretend you don't know who taught them."
Daphne's laugh cut the frost. "They'll learn from the best, Malfoy — over our dead bodies."
I chuckled low, fire in my gut. "Over plenty of dead bodies, apparently. Now — we begin."
Draco's grin melted into something wolfish, sharp at the edges. "So we're wolves now, Jon? Wolves that rip throats first and ask questions later?"
"We're worse," I said. "We're the thing wolves fear. We do not break, we do not beg. They'll come for us and they'll vanish into the dirt. We'll tear their throats out before they whisper our names."
Draco laughed, savage and ready. "Good. Let them run. Let them taste my claws if they dare circle my pack."
Daphne's eyes iced over, a winter storm behind her pupils. "We guard ours. We bury the threat. We smile at the blood if that's what it takes."
I leaned closer, voice steel and flame. "When they come — and they will — you do not hesitate. You do not flinch. You burn it all to keep Astoria safe, to keep Diana safe, to keep each other breathing. Understand?"
Draco's breath misted between his teeth. "I'll be the nightmare that howls at their doors. For Sev. For Diana. For Hermione. For your children, Jon. I'll stand in the dark so they never see it."
Daphne's frost wrapped my wrist. "I'll freeze my mercy to stone. I'll break it for every hand that reaches for Astoria. I swear it."
Our magic roared between us. My voice cut through like a blade drawn under a winter moon. "Then stand with me. No ghosts behind our eyes. No mercy for the monsters. We're wolves with fire in our veins."
Draco slammed his palm to mine, grin wicked. "First blade's mine. First corpse. First warning to the world — don't touch what's ours."
Daphne's hand joined, frost biting deeper. "First storm's mine. I'll drown the world in ice before I see it claim you, Jon. Or you, Draco. Or any of ours."
"Then it's settled," I growled. "No one lives to tell the tale if they stand against us. They'll call us wolves — they'll call us worse. Good. We are worse."
Draco's smile was all teeth. "Then let's hunt."
What followed was weeks of thunder and steel. Dawn to dusk to dawn again — no mercy. I dragged Draco and Daphne through every alley of Chicago's underbelly. Draco would cuss until his throat bled, Daphne would freeze her own sweat before biting back tears.
"Jon, do we really need to run on rooftops at 4 bloody AM?" Draco gasped as we leapt between fire escapes.
"You want to outrun a bullet? Learn to fly," I shot back. Daphne only smirked, landing light as frost.
Inside the factory, I slammed knives in their hands. "Block, twist, stab. Again."
Draco hissed as his fingers blistered. "Couldn't we just Avada them and call it a day?"
"No wands," I barked. "You lose it, you die."
Then the driving drills. 3 AM, stolen Mustang screaming down Chicago's veins. "Handbrake — drift!" Draco whooped, wheels smoking. Daphne cussed him out in three languages.
Now the time for the Hunt.
What followed was raw. No magic. Just blood and grit.
It was fists, blades, and gunfire in a rat-run alley. The alderman's muscle thought they were predators. They learned they were prey.
Draco smashed his elbow into a thug's jaw — teeth snapped loose. I caught a pistol whip with my forearm, slammed the thug's head against a dumpster till the wet thud went silent. Daphne danced in close, drove her knee into a man's ribs, twisted, and smashed his temple with her elbow.
A heavy swung a crowbar — Draco ducked, hooked his arm, ripped the crowbar free, then jabbed it into the man's gut twice, spine once. Blood sprayed the brick wall. I parried a knife slash, turned it, buried it under a chin. Steel flashed wet and fast.
Gunshots cracked. Daphne rolled under a fire escape, pivoted up, double-tapped a shooter's skull. Another charged — she slipped aside, slammed his throat with her forearm, forced his gun up, two muffled pops, down he went.
A bear of a man grabbed Draco in a choke — Draco bit his ear, headbutted backward, jammed a knife under his ribs and twisted. He shoved the dying thug into a second, smashed them both into a pile of crates, then stomped their necks for good measure.
I grabbed a steel pipe off the ground, parried a thug's punch, cracked ribs, then swung for his knee — bone snapped loud. The man fell screaming. I finished it with two shots to the chest.
More muscle thundered in — bigger, meaner, faces tattooed with old gang scars. One tackled me. We rolled in filthy water — fists, knees, elbows. I slammed his head into a drain grate until the fight bled out of him. Daphne pinned another to a wall, using her gun as a club. She fired once under his chin — splatter painted the brick.
"Draco, behind you!" I barked. He spun as a knife flickered — caught the wrist, snapped it back, twisted the blade free, stabbed it low into the man's gut and dragged it across. He panted, blood dripping off his boots.
A final thug lunged at Daphne — she pivoted, used his momentum to flip him over her shoulder. She landed on him, pistol pressed to his eye socket. One pull, no mercy.
Sirens closer now. Blood mist hung in the cold night air. Our clothes soaked, boots slick.
"Mustang. Now," I growled.
Draco wiped a smear of blood from his cheek, grinned like a wolf. "Hell of a warm-up."
A black Tahoe smashed our flank. Draco cursed, "I've got it!" He spun the wheel — we slammed into an alley. Mirrors clipped dumpsters. Shots chased us. I leaned out, emptied a mag at the SUV.
"Stay low!" Daphne barked, reloading. "Three more behind!"
We burst into traffic. Draco's knuckles white on the wheel. "We lose 'em at Wacker!"
A sedan swerved, boxed us. I kicked the door open, grabbed the driver, broke his jaw on the window frame. Daphne yanked me back inside, blood on her sleeve.
Another SUV rammed us. Draco spun the Mustang — reverse 180. We shot backward down the street, Draco laughing. "Still breathing?"
"Keep driving!" I barked, reloading.
In the rearview, headlights swarmed. Daphne leaned out, bracing. She double-tapped a thug through the windshield. He slumped — car veered into a fire hydrant.
An armored van blocked the next street. "Draco — smash through," I ordered.
"With pleasure." He slammed the pedal — steel screamed on steel. We punched through, doors flaring open. I grabbed Daphne, rolling out as the Mustang spun in sparks.
We hit the ground running. Alley. Rusted stairs. Close-quarters chaos.
A goon tackled me — we slammed into a wall. I smashed his face with my elbow. Draco booted a second thug down the fire escape, knife flashing.
"Stay tight!" Daphne yelled. We cut through a laundromat — glass shattering, dryers spinning. Two more hired muscle burst in. Draco flipped one into a washing machine, slammed the lid, fired two shots into the metal.
We spilled onto the street. Cops now — sirens. Draco hijacked a parked Charger. "Jon, in!"
We burned rubber through Chinatown — headlights ghosted walls. Behind, SUVs roared.
"Brace!" I shouted. A crash — side-swipe. Sparks rained. Draco flicked the wheel — drifted through an intersection. I leaned out, double-tapped the SUV's driver. It fishtailed into a bodega.
"Shortcut!" Daphne pointed. Draco swerved, cutting through a junkyard — chainlink fence shredded. A thug dropped from a truck — Draco clipped him with the bumper.
"Don't stop!" I barked. More lead, more screams. No mercy.
When the final crash echoed and we skidded beneath rusted bridges, our breaths steamed the windows. No ice. No thunder. Just three wolves in the dark — alive.
"Next round's on me," Draco rasped, hands shaking.
"And the next hit," Daphne said. "No more mercy."
This was Chicago. This was real. And this was only the beginning.