Fenrir Greyback

Regulus and Dumbledore had a conversation on a full moon night in the Shrieking Shack, watching Lupin transform from a human into a werewolf and back again under the moonlight. Besides saying Werewolf were ugly, they discussed something deeper: whether Legilimency could control Werewolf transformations.

Dumbledore told him that the essence of Werewolf transformation is internal conversion, not external invasion.

Magic Power is changing, the body is changing, cognition is changing; Legilimency can't counteract this.

Then Dumbledore said that will overrides instinct, and self-knowledge is the foundation of everything.

Shortly after that conversation, his soul was enlightened.

Come to think of it, he has a rather deep connection with Werewolf.

The discussion about Werewolf led to a debate about will and instinct, which directly resulted in his breakthrough in the manifestation of his soul, solidifying his self-awareness and allowing him to transition from Bellatrix to Saiph.

Since then, he has occasionally wondered, what exactly is Werewolf?

Is it a human who loses control one night each month? Or a beast who recovers one night each month?

Defining it is actually defining where the boundaries of humans are, where the boundaries of beasts are, and what exactly exists in the area where the two overlap.

Dumbledore said that the wizard's will must override his instincts, and his consciousness must take over a body that is not his own.

A wizard capable of this level cannot be Werewolf, and Werewolf can never reach that level.

But is it really impossible to reach that point?

The vast majority of Werewolf don't actually make it; their living conditions are too harsh.

Rejected by society, abandoned by family, living a life of hiding, and lacking even a complete basic education, how can one cultivate a strong spirit? But what if a Werewolf received systematic Magic training from childhood, had sufficient resources and environment to practice Legilimency, and then attempted to use willpower to override instinct? What would the result be?

In theory, the source of bestiality lies in the Magic Power transformation triggered by the full moon. The Legilimency cannot stop this transformation itself, but what if one's willpower is strong enough to remain conscious during the transformation?

It can even make the will strong enough to cover this internal transformation, without suppressing the animalistic nature from the outside, but directly making the will itself the structure, so that the animalistic nature cannot find a gap to invade.

The body changes, but the consciousness does not change with it; the human will rides on the body of a beast.

There's a Werewolf in the school, Lupin, but he's under Dumbledore's protection and can't be touched.

Having designs on Lupin would be tantamount to going against Dumbledore; there's no need for that.

Greyback was different.

Fenrir Greyback, the largest member of the Werewolf pack, Greyback the most extreme example if there is one representative of Werewolf.

In stark contrast to Lupin, Lupin suppressed his animalistic instincts, hated his Werewolf identity, and tried his best to be a normal human wizard, Greyback embraced his animalistic instincts, enjoyed transforming, actively biting people, and used his Werewolf identity as a source of power.

Even in his human form, he retained many bestial characteristics, including sharp teeth, claw-like nails, and a bloodthirsty tendency.

He is also aggressive when the moon is not full. Although he has not fully transformed, his combat power in human form far exceeds that of an ordinary wizard.

His bestial nature was not confined to the cage of the full moon night; it permeated daily life, human form, and every part of Greyback as a human being.

From Mental Layer, Greyback is perhaps the Werewolf humanity and bestiality coexist most deeply.

Other Werewolf alternate between two states: when the moon is full, they are beasts; when the moon is past its full phase, they are humans.

Greyback disrupted this alternation, allowing animalistic instincts to prevail, and humanity may no longer be the dominant force.

How did he manage to do it? Was it an innate tendency? Or was it decades of indulgence and embracing that allowed his animalistic instincts to slowly expand their territory?

Or perhaps, at some point, bestiality completely overwhelmed humanity, leaving only a wolf in human skin, or perhaps a beast that still believes itself to be human?

This is a live sample.

Lupin is a protected cub, untouchable.

Greyback was a fully unleashed adult wild Werewolf, the most savage henchman in Voldemort's camp. No one protected him, and there was no reason why he couldn't be touched.

A live sample, the perfect size.

He wanted to see for himself what the Magic Power structure of a life form dominated by bestiality looked like, and what the state of its Spiritual World was like. How exactly could humanity and bestiality coexist within him, or rather, could coexistence even exist at all?

Regulus snapped out of his thoughts, looked at Lucius, and a slight smile curved his lips, "When?"

Lucius's eyes lit up, a fleeting hint of satisfaction crossing them, before his tone returned to its elegant composure. "Anytime."

Regulus thought for a moment, "Come to Grimmauld Place tomorrow morning, and we'll walk together."

Lucius nodded decisively. "Okay, what time?"

Nine o'clock.

Lucius extended his hand, his tone regaining its usual reserve, a faint smile playing on his lips, "Thank you."

Regulus shook hands, a faint smile playing on his lips, "You're welcome."

You seem to have achieved your goal, but I'll never lose out.

The two released each other. Lucius took a step back, tapped his Staff lightly on the ground, turned around, and walked towards Narcissa. After Lucius had gone some distance, Regulus stood under the yew tree, watching his retreating figure.

The Black had mostly left; occasionally, one or two dark figures would flash through the gaps between the yew trees and then disappear. The Apparition sounds came from outside the tree wall, the intervals growing longer and longer.

Narcissa was walking this way, passing Lucius. The two simply nodded to each other without stopping to talk.

Her skirt brushed against the withered grass as she walked up to Regulus, glanced at him, and then looked back in the direction Lucius had gone.

Her gaze fell back on Regulus, filled with worry; she opened her mouth, then closed it again.

She had heard of Greyback; that Werewolf's ways were enough to make any normal person uneasy.

She knew Regulus had agreed, and she also knew that Regulus didn't need her to worry; her concerns wouldn't become an obstacle.

She only whispered, "Be careful."

Regulus looked at her, his expression relaxed, and nodded. "Don't worry."

Narcissa took a step forward, reached out and hugged him gently, just for a moment, and then let go.

She took a half step back, nodded to Regulus, and then walked away towards Lucius was waiting in the distance.

Lucius reached out his hand, and Narcissa placed it on his. The two walked towards Abraxas, then Apparition and disappeared behind the yew tree.

Regulus turned and walked towards Sirius.

Sirius stood in a gap between several yew trees, his hands in his pockets, looking very grumpy.

He stared at the spot where Lucius and Narcissa had disappeared into the distance, his eyes slightly narrowed, his brows furrowed deeply, and the corners of his mouth pressed down sharply. Only when Regulus walked up to him did Sirius turn his gaze back to him, his expression unfriendly.

"What did you say?" Sirius's tone wasn't exactly harsh, but it certainly wasn't friendly.

Regulus stared at him calmly, offering no reply.

Without waiting for Regulus's answer, he immediately asked, "What's there to talk about with someone like that?"

Those kinds of people— Malfoy, Death Eaters, Voldemort's lackeys, Pure-bloods nobles dressed in fine clothes, speaking politely, their hands filthy. Sirius's expression wasn't just disgust; he had just been interacting easily with Narcissa, almost laughing, but now all that was gone. A lot was churning in his grey eyes.

He had just seen Regulus and Lucius walk aside alone, like two adults having a conversation.

The image instantly reminded him of Regulus, the same Black, the same Black who stood on Voldemort's side. He had almost forgotten about it.

The easing of tensions, the growing closeness, the playful banter on Hogsmeade Road, the stubborn height comparisons, the boasting about learning Apparition, the occasional casual chats, the lighthearted teasing.

These warm, normal, and brotherly feelings turned off a certain alarm clock in his head, and he began to see his younger brother as just his younger brother. Sirius had been avoiding this issue in his mind.

After relations eased, he chose not to think about it, not about what would happen to Regulus in the future, not about the Black family's position on Voldemort's side, not about those black robes and Silver Mask.

Regulus walking with him, bickering with him, comparing heights with him—these scenes were so normal that he felt everything else could exist.

But now it has reappeared.

The future he feared—the image of Regulus in his black robes, standing behind Voldemort —never disappeared.

He thought Regulus was different from him, and indeed he was. Although he didn't want to admit it, the fact was that Regulus was more clear-headed, smarter, and stronger than him.

But being clear-headed and intelligent does not mean not participating.

Sirius's logic used to be very simple: reject what's bad, and do what's right.

Voldemort is bad, Death Eaters are bad, it's wrong to associate with them, just refuse to go near them.

But Regulus had told him that power and choice are intertwined.

He realized that the things he had discarded—responsibility, family, the expectations of Pure-bloods, Voldemort's attention—hadn't disappeared; they had all fallen upon Regulus.

Sirius understands this now, at least much more than before.

So he didn't explode like before, he didn't yell, he didn't throw things, he didn't curse, he didn't turn around and leave, he didn't tell you to stand with those damn lunatics and put on that damn black robe.

He simply stared at Regulus, his lips pressed tightly together, his brows furrowed, his gaze so complex it seemed unlike him.

Regulus looked at Sirius's face and knew what he was thinking.

He used to get annoyed, yell, and say hurtful things, but now he doesn't yell anymore.

He's asking questions, trying to figure out what happened. He's no longer starting with "Why are you talking to that kind of person?" He's asking specific questions. That's progress.

Being able to refrain from losing your temper, and choosing to think rather than confront when you don't understand—that's progress.

The relationship eased and they grew closer, but this warmth was like a thin layer of snow, covering the cracks underneath. The snow melted, but the cracks remained. Regulus didn't intend to cover Sirius with snow anymore; there wasn't enough time.

In 1974 and 1975, as war drew ever closer, everyone faced choices.

Sirius will have to face this issue sooner or later: his brother, his family, and those who stand in different positions.

It's better for him to see things clearly sooner rather than later.

Sirius couldn't pretend forever that he was just his brother and not the Heir of the Black family.

Their relationship has indeed improved, and they have become closer, but the fundamental problem remains and cannot be resolved in the short term.

What needs to be faced sooner or later, let him face it.

Abandon illusions, prepare for battle.

Regulus simply shook his head and said nothing.

Sirius's expression darkened further, his face falling completely.

Shaking his head meant he wasn't going to explain, and not explaining meant the answer was the one he already knew.

Regulus was talking to Malfoy about the Black family's position and that circle.

Sirius stared at him for a long time.

His gray eyes held anger, helplessness, and a suffocating feeling of being forced underwater by reality.

Regulus's relationship with that side has never been severed. The ease and closeness he had felt recently were genuine, but Regulus was still Regulus.

Sirius turned around, said nothing, and walked away.

Regulus stood there, watching his retreating figure disappear from the yew trees, and shook his head slightly.

He followed behind, through the wall of yew trees.

Once outside the range of the Anti-Apparition Charm in the cemetery, Sirius was standing on a patch of withered grass, his hands still in his pockets, his back to him.