The forbidden forest carried a heavy and humid air, the kind that clung to your skin and filled your lungs with the scent of earth. Shadows danced under the canopy of trees, their branches stretching like skeletal fingers towards the dark sky. A heavy mist curled around the roots, veiling the forest floor. Only the occasional snap of a twig or the distant, almost mournful hoot of an unseen owl broke the silence.

It was there, in the heart of the gloom, that he stood. Fenrir Greyback was more beast than man, crouched low with his hunched shoulders, surprisingly blending into the undergrowth. His matted hair hung in greasy strands, framing a vicious face and the savage grin of a predator who was never tired of the hunt. His yellowed eyes glinted in the dark, catching every blink of movement and life.

And then, he froze. His head tilted, nostrils flaring as he caught a scent carried on the cold, damp air— something human, something delicious. Slowly, deliberately, he straightened, his towering form emerging from the shadows like a wolf stepping out of the dark. His grin widened, revealing jagged teeth as his eyes locked onto you.