Fenrir Greyback roared and ranted hysterically, trying to make himself look exactly as he normally did, so as not to arouse Wizet's suspicions.
In truth, he felt as though his heart were about to leap into his throat. He was terrified that Wizet might make some unexpected move and uncover the secret he wanted to hide.
He had not experienced this feeling in a long time. The last time he had felt this way was when he had been with Voldemort.
After roaring at Wizet like this, he desperately wanted Wizet to leave at once, or pull out his wand and examine him—anything but stand there in silence with that expressionless face.
Wizet standing there motionless instead gave him an enormous sense of pressure, so immense that he began to feel as though he were suffocating again.
Fenrir Greyback simply stopped, his chains clinking as his chest heaved and he panted heavily.
This was something he would normally do as well. After all, Wizet controlled the amount of food he received, which had left him thinner and weaker by the day. It was perfectly normal for him to be too exhausted to keep shouting now.
All he needed to do was act as normally as possible, to do the things he would under ordinary circumstances, so Wizet would not notice anything amiss.
Just as Fenrir Greyback was trembling with fear, Wizet finally spoke. "Mr. Greyback, it seems you're in rather poor condition right now..."
The instant he heard Wizet speak, Fenrir Greyback had to admit that he was frightened. It was as if his heart had leapt into his throat, only to abruptly stop there.
He instinctively held his breath. He wanted to hear what Wizet had to say, yet he was also afraid that what Wizet said next would