| “ | Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and to contaminate as many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to overcome the wizards. Voldemort has promised him prey in return for his services. Greyback specializes in children... Bite them young, he says, and raise them away from their parents, raise them to hate normal wizards.
— Remus Lupin
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Most are disgusted or ashamed when afflicted with the disease that causes one to become a bloodthirsty werewolf; Fenrir Greyback, meanwhile, lives through them with savage glee. Once Greyback became afflicted with lycanthropy, he embraced his animalistic nature. Seeking to overwhelm the Wizarding World, Greyback is known for his savagery and his particular love of children. Believing that attacking them young will corrupt them further, Greyback is attempting to overrun the wizard population by creating an army of powerful werewolves to serve him.
During the 1990's and the Second Wizarding War, Fenrir Greyback owed his allegiance to Lord Voldemort under the promise of several wizards to satisfy both his plans for domination and his own cannibalistic hunger. Despite the disgust many Death Eaters found for Greyback and his pack, many acknowledged his usefulness as a hunter and assassin. Greyback served Voldemort faithfully, battling against Harry Potter and then burning the house of his best friend's family to the ground alongside Bellatrix Lestrange. The two servants of Voldemort then captured Harry and his companions, but were unable to maintain hold of them.
As Voldemort's army prepared to lay siege to Hogwarts Castle, Fenrir led his pack of werewolves against the students and faculty of Hogwarts, as well as the Order of the Phoenix. Fenris and his pack managed to murder several students, ranging from first year children to fully grown seventh years, until Fenrir was finally defeated by Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom after killing their friend Lavender Brown.
Battle vs. Farkas (by El Alamein)[]
It was cold.
As a Nord, Farkas should have been used to it--should have relished in it, if anything--but this time... this time, it was different. He had braved the icy winds of Skyrim long enough to keep in warm spirits even when seized by the frigid depths of a despairing night. That bitter biting sting was familiar, at least. It reminded him of home. But this cold... well, it wasn't just the discomfort. If anything, it wasn't really any colder than an average night in Whiterun. What made this different was the way the mist seemed to swirl through the air and down his nostrils and press itself against his very soul. There wasn't really an accurate description of it. This cold just made Farkas miserable right to his core.
The forest itself smelled crisp and sharp. Farkas' unhappy gaze swept across the landscape, his yellow eyes glinting from the moonlight struggling to break from the clouds. From somewhere within surfaced a repressed hunter. As he walked, Farkas felt his heartbeat quicken--faster and faster, until he felt it might burst, but he maintained his cool, composed pace. Then, all of the sudden, the quiet sound of his footsteps on the soft forest floor were interrupted. Farkas froze. A second set of footsteps approached from behind, accompanied by a raspy growls of heavy breathing. "We're a bit lost tonight, aren't we, friend?" Farkas frowned and started to turn when his limbs snapped tightly against his body. He couldn't move. He could barely move his lips to breathe.
A bulky figure prowled into his field of vision, surprisingly agile for its size. The man was leering. Filthy, stringy hair stuck to his face in clumps, parting across his forehead to reveal beady eyes, a squashed and bulbous nose, and jagged decaying teeth that jutted out above the lips. Fenrir Greyback tauntingly poked a finger at the magically-restrained warrior, jabbed his wand against his forehead, and backed up a few feet, surveying his victim.
"Right... let's see what you've got in you, boy," snarled Greyback, raising his wand to the air and breaking the spell. Feeling control flood back into his body, coursing across his muscles like the blood flowing furiously through his pounding veins, Farkas leapt forward, pulling his sword off its place on his back and bringing it crashing down on Fenrir Greyback. The Death Eater spun on the spot, disappearing with a slight pop before reappearing behind his opponent. Stumbling forward, Farkas recovered and turned, his eyes blazing undying fury at his attacker. The Companion readjusted his grip on his sword and ran forward again, trying a diagonal downward slash. Greyback swifty flicked his wand and a translucent milky bauble fountained out from the tip, blocking the sword strike and bursting in a puff of smoke. Not waiting for the Nord to recover, Greyback followed up with a Stunning spell that slammed right into Farkas' chest. It made a loud crashing sound as it collided with his steel breastplate, sending him staggering backward until he hit a tree. Dazed, Farkas brought himself up to his feet again, forcing himself to focus as Greyback approached casually. Catching the wizard by surprise, Farkas made another desperate attack that sliced through his opponent's robes. The rough black fabric floated to the ground as both men stopped and watched. They looked up simulatenously, but Farkas managed to strike first, bashing the hilt of his greatsword into Greyback's face.
"I am a warrior!" shouted Farkas, speaking for the first time as he gained the upper hand. Greyback raised his hand over his head as Farkas slammed the hilt down a second time. Blood spurted in brief but concentrated bursts from the Death Eater's nose. Planting his foot on Greyback's chest, Farkas kicked hard and forced the wizard down to the dewy grass below. Landing with a grunt that expelled the air from his lungs, Greyback gasped wildly, looking up, mouth open in horror as Farkas raised the sword high overhead. Right before the blade connected on its downward swing, though, Greyback disappearead again, Apparating to a spot a few feet away. The blade merely slid into the grass. Farkas advanced on the wandless Greyback, who patiently stood his ground and waited. Apparating a second time, he reappeared to recover his fallen wand. Farkas spun around, disoriented at his foe's strategy. Once again he felt a sudden loss of control in his muscles as his limbs snapped to his sides and he dropped his sword. Greyback stepped back, pointing his wand at his enemy.
The Death Eater looked upward, his eyes darting to the sky, and flashed a malicious grin, his teeth sliding together and flashing in the emerging moonlight. "You're good," he said, keeping his wand trained on the now-captive Farkas. "So I won't end you right here. But let me tell you... you're not prepared for this! Heh heh heh..." The wizard's harsh barks of laughter merged with animalistic grunts of pain as the full moon made its triumphant entry, bathing the scene in a harsh yellow glow as Greyback collapsed to all fours. The transformation was as sudden as it was painful. Limbs elongated, matted dark-gray fur sprouting over his body, jaws extended and teeth snapping, Fenrir Greyback was now a werewolf. Raising himself tenatively on his hind legs, Greyback howled at the moon.
It was at this moment that Farkas realized the spell had been broken. Stooping to pick up his sword, he swung his weapon in a wide arc to keep the werewolf at bay. As Greyback circled his foe, snarling, he realized something was happening. Farkas kept a grip on his weapon as long as he could, but he was visibly shifting in size. His armor snapped off, landing with a dull thud in the grass below. As his arms and legs exploded into muscular limbs and his body grew into a werewolf, Farkas returned Greyback's sinister snarls. With the moon the only spectator to this grim encounter, both werewolves charged.
As the two lycanthropes collided, their twisted and gnarled claws grappling at their opponent's bodies and their teeth clacking and snapping for their foe's throats, neither gave way. Greyback's werewolf was taller and he used his leverage as an advantage, while Farkas' werewolf, the more muscular of the two, dug in firmly to the ground and refused to yield. Finally, Farkas tucked his head into Greyback's chest and kicked off the ground with his powerful legs. The two beasts sailed through the air, flying past trees, still slashing and tearing at the other until they landed. Greyback whined involuntarily at the hard landing as Farkas rolled off and stepped back. Waiting for his foe to recover, the Nord werewolf howled and snarled in anger. Pushing himself painfully to his feet, Greyback glanced down at the large wounds on his arms and legs. Farkas seemed unfazed at the blood dripping down from his ears into his eyes. Shaking his head and sending the drops scattering to the frosty night air, he swung a mighty claw at the charging wizard werewolf. Greyback took the blow right to the face, careening sideways and stunned by the strike. Three long gashes ran across his muzzle and over his nose.
At that moment Farkas' transformation began to revert. Rapidly shrinking and with his human features returning, the now-naked Nord stared in horror at the werewolf that loomed overhead. Greyback opened his jaws and started to lunge forward when the clouds overhead intervened, dragging their darkened hands over the eyes of the moon and pulling it despite its strongest protests into obscurity. Greyback shrank back in pain, whining and grasping at his body as the reversion to human commenced. The Death Eater was now on the ground, racked with pain. Recovering his composure, Farkas turned and sprinted back to his armor and weapons. Greyback stumbled to his feet, taking deep breaths as sweat rolled off of his body in waves. Looking up at the Companion hastily rearming himself, Greyback Apparated over to his wand, an action that drained him of even more energy. Snatching up his wand, the wizard turned to face his foe, who was once again armor-clad and held his greatsword menacingly.
Both men were bleeding and torn from their werewolf fight. Greyback's face was mauled and his arms and legs shaky and unsteady. Farkas' neck was scratched and raw, his ears torn and ragged. Readying himself for the final encounter, Greyback summoned the deepest reserves of his infernal savagery. A twisted grin flashed across his face, through the blood. Farkas planted his feet into the ground and bent his knees, thrusting his sword forward as Greyback turned on the spot, disappearing in a swirl of his cape. There was a slight pop followed by an even slighter gasp as the Death Eater re-Apparated in front of his foe. His wand was inches from Farkas' head, but the Companion kept his gaze fixed on his foe. There were a few seconds of silence. Then, Greyback's grip slackened and his wand fell onto the grass. He had Apparated right onto Farkas' sword.
The Nord pushed his foe off and let the body crumple to the ground in an unceremonious heap. The black robes became Greyback's shroud as they spilled over his broken form, lifeless and bloodied in the reemerging moonlight, come to see which of its children had triumphed. A blade of light cut through the trees as the reflection of the night--the hunt personified--danced off of Farkas' sword and disappeared, wild and free, into the forest. Farkas lowered his weapon and slowly waited for his breathing and heart rate to return to normal.
The cold returned to hold him as his senses slowly came creeping back. But this time, it felt again like home.
Expert's Opinion
Fenrir Greyback was a very savage werewolf and a proficient wizard, making him a threat to Farkas due both to his high killer instinct and ranged potency with magic. However, Farkas' training and prior experience with magic (albeit a different type of magic) enabled him to hold his own long enough for the transformations to occur, where his victory was really secured. The Skyrim werewolf was much more muscular and powerful than its Harry Potter equivalent, meaning Farkas could dish out considerably more damage than Greyback when transformed. While Greyback had the potential to strike down his foe and end it at a distance immediately, his preference for close-quarters fighting and bare tooth-and-nail savagery really tipped the scales in favor of the armor-wearing, sword-wielding Companion.