Fenrir Greyback roared and shouted hysterically, trying to make himself look exactly the same as usual, so as to avoid arousing Vizet's suspicion.
In truth, he felt as if his heart were about to leap into his throat, terrified that Vizet might really do something unexpected and discover the secret he wanted to hide.
It had been a long time since he had experienced this feeling. He remembered the last time it had appeared was when he was with Voldemort.
He wished that after he roared at Vizet like this, Vizet would hurry up and leave, or take out his Wand to study him—anything but stand there without a word, with that expressionless look on his face.
Vizet, standing there at that moment, instead brought him an immense sense of pressure, so great that he began to feel as if he were suffocating again.
Fenrir Greyback simply stopped. Amid the jingling of the shackles, his chest heaved as he panted continuously.
This was also something he would usually do, after all. Vizet had controlled the amount of food he received, which was what had made him thinner and weaker by the day. It was only normal that he could not keep shouting now.
What he had to do now was act as much like usual as possible, doing things that would appear as normal reactions, so that Vizet would not notice anything abnormal about him.
Just as Fenrir Greyback was trembling with fear, Vizet finally spoke. "Mr. Greyback, it seems your current condition is very poor..."
The instant he heard Vizet speak, Fenrir Greyback had to admit he was frightened, as if his heart had leapt into his throat and then abruptly stopped.
He subconsciously held his breath, both wanting to hear what Vizet was going to say and fearing