What kind of pattern was that?
Observing the brilliant yet strangely non-blinding light, Fenrir felt the radiance resembled some kind of golden flower, though he couldn't immediately identify the species. Then, as his werewolf body began rapidly petrifying from the extremities inward, he suddenly recognized the pattern formed by the golden light—it was none other than the legendary spider lily.
Golden threads of supernatural light drifted and twisted through the air like ethereal petals, transforming any living creature they touched into solid stone. The instant Sean unleashed his Serpent King Eyes ability, the werewolves and wolves positioned closest to him were instantaneously converted into stone statues. Those positioned slightly farther from the epicenter had portions of their bodies rapidly petrified as well.
They attempted to flee, turning desperately to run, but before they could escape more than a few meters, their bodies completed the transformation into lifeless rock, freezing permanently as grotesque statues.
In just over ten seconds of sustained activation, not only the werewolves and wolves but even the surrounding trees and undergrowth transformed into stone. Everything fell into deathly, tomb-like silence.
Meanwhile, Sean was forcibly expelled from his White Serpent King Animagus state by magical exhaustion. He collapsed heavily to the ground, gasping for breath in ragged gulps. Sean felt as though both his magical reserves and physical stamina had been violently drained to near-nothing. He simply wanted to lie motionless on the cold earth, lacking even the energy to move a single finger.
Bloodline abilities are ultimately just another form of magic, he reminded himself through the haze of exhaustion. And all magic naturally requires energy expenditure.
The tremendous scale of the Serpent King Eyes petrification effect had completely drained Sean's magical and physical reserves in merely ten seconds of activation.
After lying there recovering for several minutes, Sean's constitution—significantly superior to ordinary wizards thanks to his Troll talents—allowed him enough strength to reach into his Undetectable Extension Charm bag. He withdrew a substantial quantity of restorative potions and magical stamina draughts, consuming them desperately as though they cost nothing.
The potions took effect rapidly, flooding his system with renewed energy.
Finally able to stand, Sean surveyed the completely petrified landscape surrounding him—the various creatures frozen mid-motion, the stone trees, the crystallized grass. Even though he had personally created this devastation, Sean couldn't suppress a sense of profound awe at the destructive capability.
"I'll need to exercise extreme caution when using this ability in the future," he murmured to himself.
Sean walked directly to Fenrir Greyback's towering statue, frowning slightly at the three-meter-tall werewolf king frozen in his transformed state. He vaguely sensed something amiss about the petrification—some subtle wrongness he couldn't immediately identify.
Without hesitation, Sean raised his wand and unleashed destructive magic at the statue.
"Bombarda!"
BOOM!
With the explosive detonation, Fenrir's statue shattered into countless fragments. At that precise moment, a dark figure darted from within the debris, sprinting desperately toward the distant forest cover.
Watching the fleeing silhouette, Sean thought grimly, Of course. I knew something felt wrong.
He'd sensed the abnormality when approaching Fenrir's statue initially. The werewolf king must have employed some method—perhaps similar to molting skin and fur—to escape the full petrification effect of the Serpent King Eyes at the critical moment.
The werewolf king who truly deserves the title of Child of the Night is not so easily eliminated.
WHOOSH!
Black smoke billowed around Sean as he pursued Fenrir in the direction of his flight, transforming partially to achieve supernatural speed.
Now positioned far from Hogwarts Castle, the mysterious observer's attention was no longer focused on Sean's activities. As for that surveillance, Sean maintained strong suspicions—with Dumbledore being the most likely candidate for such oversight.
Flight always proved faster than ground pursuit.
Sean, rapidly closing the distance to Fenrir, brandished his wand with lethal intent.
"Confringo!"
"Confringo!"
"Confringo!"
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A devastating series of explosions erupted around Fenrir's position as Blasting Curses rained down upon him like artillery bombardment.
Fortunately for the werewolf king, his supernatural speed and agility allowed him to dodge the worst of the barrage. Otherwise, he would have been blown to scattered pieces under such concentrated explosive assault.
"Herbivicus!"
The forest floor shattered violently as thick vines erupted upward, coiling to block Fenrir's escape route entirely.
Simultaneously, Sean descended from his aerial position, black smoke swirling dramatically around his form. The smoke transformed into countless grasping hands that reached out to seize Fenrir bodily.
Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle...
Fenrir spun with desperate violence, his claws flashing through the air, tearing the smoke constructs to shreds before they could solidify their grip.
But at that moment, a relentless barrage of spells poured forth from Sean's wand, attacking Fenrir from multiple angles simultaneously. Though these castings were primarily non-lethal effects—Petrificus Totalus, Impedimenta, Stupefy—spells that inflicted minimal direct harm to werewolves' supernatural resilience, Fenrir found himself increasingly suppressed by their cumulative impact and interference with his movements.
Observing Fenrir constantly shifting positions in increasingly desperate attempts to break free from the magical onslaught, Sean called out coldly, "It seems your power as a Child of the Night isn't something you can invoke repeatedly without consequence."
Fenrir, trapped in his werewolf form, couldn't articulate human speech. However, his meaning was unmistakably clear through his enraged howls and increasingly frantic movements.
While maintaining his wand assault with his right hand, Sean withdrew additional stamina potions with his left and consumed them rapidly to sustain his magical output.
As Sean's wand continued its intricate patterns, more and more black smoke billowed from his body with increasing density. The smoke quickly condensed into solid black chains that swirled through the air before coiling tightly around Fenrir's massive form.
Initially, Fenrir offered substantial resistance, his supernatural strength straining against the bindings. However, as time progressed, the seemingly insubstantial chains formed by Sean's Smoke Rope Curse—Voldemort's signature spell at Level 5 mastery—completely entangled and immobilized him.
Crack, crack, crack...
The black chains produced ominous creaking sounds as Fenrir struggled with all his remaining strength against the restraints.
But to Fenrir's profound shock and growing desperation, he proved completely helpless against these chains that appeared merely two fingers thick yet possessed the tensile strength of steel cables!
"Awoooo..."
Fenrir released a howl of defiant rage, his body beginning to swell once more with gathering power.
However, this transformation proceeded far more slowly than before, clearly indicating he intended to invoke the power of the Children of the Night blessing once again—likely his final desperate gambit.
Sean observed Fenrir's attempted transformation with tactical calculation. During the binding process, he'd noticed the Dementors from Hogwarts gathering in the distance, clearly having detected Sirius Black's presence in the area.
Sean had no intention whatsoever of missing the opportunity to eliminate those gathered Dementors. His Glacius and Pain Extraction abilities weren't yet at maximum mastery level—this represented a perfect opportunity for advancement.
"I apologize, but I cannot permit you the opportunity to complete another transformation," Sean stated coldly. "I've suddenly recalled an urgent matter requiring my immediate attention. Let's conclude this encounter now."
Hearing Sean's pronouncement, Fenrir immediately roared with desperate fury. Sean ignored the outburst entirely, simply raising his wand and aiming it directly at Fenrir's open, howling mouth.
"Incendio!"
"Venenatus Fluxus!"
"Bombarda!"
Flames, poison, and explosive force.
Three devastating energies poured directly into Fenrir's gaping maw and down his throat.
Perhaps Fenrir's supernatural constitution could resist the searing flames through sheer resilience. Perhaps he could withstand the concussive power of the explosions through his enhanced durability.
But against concentrated poison—especially with the toxic compound poured directly into his mouth and forced down his esophagus—no degree of magical resistance could provide adequate protection. Even Fenrir's formidable defenses proved insufficient against such internal assault.
His struggles grew progressively weaker and more uncoordinated as the poison ravaged his system from within. His supernatural strength faded rapidly. His life force drained away inexorably.
Finally, Fenrir Greyback transformed into a lifeless corpse, still ensnared within Sean's black chains, utterly motionless and thoroughly dead.
Fenrir Greyback, Child of the Night, King of the Werewolves, had fallen.