Under the Cursed Moon - CH - 68

Teddy had been ecstatic when he first took the cure for lycanthropy. He had celebrated, played outside with his friends for hours, and even declared to Harry and Hermione that he felt "normal" for the first time in his life. But as the weeks passed, something began to change.

At first, it was small things—feeling out of breath when racing Renesmee through the forest, tripping over his own feet when sparring with his parents, falling behind when playing with Seth and the other shapeshifters.

Then it got worse.

He couldn't lift heavy objects like he used to. His reflexes dulled. His senses weren’t as sharp—the once vibrant scent of the forest faded, his hearing no longer picked up distant sounds, and his strength was nothing compared to before.

And it made him feel weak.

For a boy who had grown up surrounded by supernatural beings, suddenly being just ordinary felt wrong.

Hermione had been watching him closely. She was always the most observant, always the one to notice things before anyone else.

At first, she thought he was simply adjusting. But when Teddy started skipping training sessions, avoiding his usual games, and spending more time alone in his room, she knew something was seriously wrong.

One evening, she found him sitting alone on the porch of the Black Mansion, knees tucked to his chest, staring at the forest.

“Teddy?” Hermione called gently.

He turned, forcing a small smile. “Hey, Mum.”

She sat beside him. “Talk to me.”

Teddy hesitated, staring at the sky. “I thought I wanted to be normal,” he admitted. “But now… I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

Hermione placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re still you, Teddy. You’re just… human now.”

Teddy looked at her, eyes filled with frustration and sadness. “But that’s the problem! I don’t want to be just human. I feel slow, weak… like I don’t belong anymore.”

Hermione felt her heart clench.

She had wanted him to be happy. She had worked so hard to give him a normal life. But she had never considered that Teddy didn’t want normal. He had grown up with a family of Lycans, surrounded by supernatural beings. He wasn’t afraid of being different.

He wanted to be strong again.

“Mum,” Teddy whispered, “I want to be like you and Dad.”

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. She knew exactly what he was asking.

Teddy wanted to become a Lycan.

That night, Hermione and Harry sat in their private study, discussing the one thing they never thought they would.

“You’re actually considering this?” Harry asked, pacing the room, his arms crossed.

Hermione let out a long sigh. “I didn’t at first, but Harry… he’s miserable.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “But he doesn’t know what he’s asking for. Being a Lycan is—”

“—a gift,” Hermione interrupted firmly. “He won’t have to change during the full moon. He’ll be stronger, faster, and live longer. And most importantly… he won’t feel left out anymore.”

Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. “I just don’t want him to regret it later.”

Hermione stepped forward, placing a hand on his chest. “Do you regret it?”

Harry paused, looking into her warm brown eyes. No. He didn’t regret it. Being a Lycan had changed him, but it had also made him stronger.

Finally, he exhaled and nodded. “Alright. But we do this carefully.”

The next evening, Teddy stood in the center of the Black Mansion’s underground sanctum, nerves and excitement battling inside him.

Harry and Hermione stood beside him, while Leah observed from a distance.

“Are you absolutely sure about this, Teddy?” Harry asked one last time.

Teddy nodded without hesitation. “I want this.”

Harry took a deep breath. He had never turned anyone except Hermoine. Turning someone into a true Lycan was not a simple process. Unlike werewolves, whose condition was more of a curse, Lycanthropy was transferred through a deliberate, controlled bite from an Alpha.

And Harry, as the strongest Lycan alive, was an Alpha.

“You’ll feel pain,” Harry warned, his voice serious. “It’ll be worse than anything you’ve ever felt before.”

Teddy swallowed but didn’t back down.

“I’m ready.”

Harry stepped closer, his canines elongating as he placed a firm hand on Teddy’s shoulder. He hated this part, but he knew it had to be done.

“Teddy,” Hermione said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. “It’s going to be alright.”

Teddy nodded, his body tense but determined.

Then, with a swift movement, Harry sank his fangs into Teddy’s shoulder.

Teddy gasped, his body instantly locking up in shock. His hands clenched into fists as fire erupted through his veins, burning from the inside out. He fell to his knees, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the venom spread.

He felt like his bones were melting and reforging, his muscles tightening and expanding, his senses exploding with new sensations.

Every sound, every scent, every shift in the air became crystal clear.

He could hear Hermione’s heartbeat, Leah’s slow breathing, and the wind rustling against the trees outside.

Then, his body convulsed violently. His canines extended, his nails sharpened into claws, and his eyes glowed like molten gold.

And then, it was over.

Teddy stood, breathing heavily. His once smaller frame had filled out with lean muscle, his movements were stronger, faster, and he could feel power thrumming beneath his skin.

He turned to his parents, a wide grin on his face.

“I feel amazing.”

Hermione let out a relieved laugh. Harry shook his head with a smile. “Just don’t get too cocky, kid. You’ve got training to do.”

Leah chuckled. “Welcome to the pack, Teddy.”

And just like that, Teddy Black—once a cursed werewolf, then a normal human—had become something more.

Something stronger.

Something unstoppable.

The moment Teddy awoke the next morning, he knew everything was different.

It wasn’t just the strength coursing through his veins—it was everything.

He could hear the heartbeat of every living thing in the house, smell every ingredient in Hermione’s morning tea, see details in the wooden ceiling that he had never noticed before. His body hummed with energy, muscles tense and coiled like a predator waiting to pounce.

And the strength—Merlin, the strength.

He gripped the wooden bed frame absentmindedly, and with the smallest pressure—CRACK!

A massive splintering sound filled the room as the frame shattered beneath his fingers.

Teddy stumbled back, staring at the destruction in shock. He had barely applied any force, yet the wood crumbled as if it were paper.

His breathing quickened. This was bad.

Harry was already waiting downstairs when Teddy hesitantly entered the kitchen. The broken bed frame was still fresh in his mind, and his hands trembled as he sat at the table, afraid to touch anything.

Hermione placed a glass of juice in front of him, giving him a warm, reassuring smile.

Harry, on the other hand, looked serious.

“I called your school,” Harry said, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. “Told them you were sick and would be out for a while.”

Teddy blinked. “How long?”

Harry exhaled. “As long as it takes.”

Teddy’s heart sank. He didn’t want to miss school. He didn’t want his friends to think he had disappeared.

“But—”

“You nearly destroyed your bed this morning,” Harry interrupted. “Imagine if you did that to a person.”

Teddy froze.

A simple handshake… a pat on the back… even a friendly nudge—any of those things could shatter bones.

He swallowed hard. “I… I didn’t mean to.”

Harry’s expression softened. “I know, kid. That’s why we’re going to train you.”

Teddy glanced at Hermione, searching for reassurance.

She nodded. “You’re stronger, faster, and sharper now than any human. We need to teach you control before you can be around others.”

Teddy fidgeted. He didn’t like the idea of being isolated, but he also didn’t want to hurt anyone.

So he nodded. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

Harry led Teddy to the private training grounds behind the Black Mansion—an area hidden by layers of wards to prevent anyone from seeing or sensing what happened inside.

A row of training dummies stood in the clearing, each enchanted to be as durable as iron.

Harry handed Teddy a large rock.

“Crush it,” he ordered.

Teddy hesitated. Then, he squeezed.

CRACK! The rock exploded into dust in his palm.

Harry nodded. “That’s your strength now. You’re twenty times stronger than before. If you shake hands with a human carelessly, you’ll break their wrist without meaning to.”

Teddy swallowed.

“Now,” Harry continued, “I want you to hold this one.” He handed Teddy another rock. “Don’t break it. Just hold it.”

Teddy took the rock carefully.

It crumbled instantly.

Harry sighed. “Again.”

Teddy took another rock, concentrating this time. He held it in his palm, focusing on keeping his fingers relaxed.

The rock didn’t break.

Harry smirked. “Good. Now do that with everything.”

Teddy frowned. “That sounds hard.”

Harry chuckled. “Welcome to being a Lycan.”

For the next nine days, Teddy trained relentlessly under Harry’s guidance. The first day was all about understanding his new body. Teddy’s enhanced strength, speed, and senses were overwhelming at first. He crushed a door handle just by gripping it too hard, and when he tried to run, he covered a distance that should have taken minutes in mere seconds. Even his hearing was so sharp that the rustling of leaves from the far end of the estate felt like a roaring storm.

Harry, knowing firsthand the challenges of being a Lycan, structured Teddy’s training to help him gain control.

On the second day, they focused on strength control. Teddy had to hold an egg in his hand without breaking it while doing various activities—walking, running, and even practicing spells. He shattered dozens of eggs before he finally managed to keep one intact by the end of the day.

The third and fourth days were dedicated to speed. Harry set up an obstacle course around the Black Mansion’s vast grounds. Teddy had to navigate through the trees without knocking them over or breaking anything in his path. At first, he was like a wrecking ball, sending branches and furniture flying, but soon, he learned to adjust his movements, making his steps lighter and more precise.

On the fifth and sixth days, they worked on Teddy’s heightened senses. The world was unbearably loud to him now—he could hear conversations happening miles away and smell every distinct scent carried by the wind. Harry taught him how to filter out unnecessary stimuli, focusing only on what was important. Hermione helped by creating different scent-based challenges where Teddy had to identify specific smells while ignoring others.

By the seventh and eighth days, Teddy had mastered most of his abilities, but there was still the challenge of social interaction. A simple handshake from him could easily break bones. Leah, who had firsthand experience dealing with shapeshifter strength, joined in to help. She taught Teddy how to adjust his grip and control his reflexes when interacting with humans.

On the ninth day, Harry tested Teddy in a simulated school environment. They filled a room with normal objects—a fragile chair, a simple doorknob, books, and delicate parchment—and Teddy had to move around the space without breaking anything. By the end of the day, he had finally gained enough control to return to school without causing an accidental disaster.

Being a Lycan was vastly different from being a werewolf. As a werewolf, the wolf’s presence in the mind was only noticeable during the full moon and the days leading up to it. The transformation was a forced, almost violent takeover, something that could not be ignored or resisted. But as a Lycan, the presence of the wolf was constant—an ever-present voice, whispering suggestions, offering instincts beyond human comprehension.

Teddy quickly learned that everything about him had changed. His movements were sharper, his senses heightened to an almost unbearable degree. The world had become more vivid—he could hear the rustling of leaves miles away, feel the heartbeat of animals in the forest, and smell emotions as if they were tangible. His inner wolf constantly nudged at his thoughts, urging him to let go, to embrace the hunt, to run free.

At first, it was overwhelming. Walking down the hall of the Black Mansion, he felt an incessant urge to sprint instead. When he got frustrated, his inner wolf pushed him to lash out, to use his claws, to dominate. Controlling these impulses became his most difficult challenge.

Thankfully, Teddy had been trained in the Mind Arts from a young age. Occlumency was second nature to him, a skill both his parents insisted he master early. Through it, he learned to navigate the presence of the wolf within, to converse with it rather than suppress it. He spent hours in deep meditation, delving into his own consciousness, creating barriers where needed and pathways where understanding was required.

Sitting cross-legged in his training room, Teddy closed his eyes and focused inward. The wolf was there, always at the edge of his mind, pacing like a caged predator.

*“I am not your enemy,”* Teddy spoke in his mind.

The wolf paused, its glowing amber eyes watching him. It did not speak in words, but its feelings were clear—dominance, power, and a need for freedom.

*“We are one. I will not suppress you, but we must work together.”*

The wolf tilted its head, assessing him. Then, after a long moment, it sat, a silent agreement forming between them.

Despite his progress, there was one thing that frustrated Teddy immensely—his inability to take a full wolf form. He had seen both his parents do it effortlessly. Harry, in his massive black wolf form, commanded the presence of an alpha, his sheer size and strength unmatched. Hermione, in her sleek brown wolf form, was built for agility and speed, her intelligence carrying over even in her animal state. But no matter how hard Teddy tried, he could only access his hybrid form.

His hybrid form was powerful—standing nearly five feet tall with elongated limbs, sharp claws, and a jaw capable of snapping steel. His muscles rippled with raw strength, and his speed was unmatched. But he longed for the ability to run through the woods as a true wolf, to experience the freedom that both his parents had.

One evening, he trained with Harry under the silver glow of the moon.

“You’re pushing too hard, Teddy,” Harry said, watching his son with patient eyes. “You’re trying to force the transformation like it’s a spell. It doesn’t work that way.”

Teddy, drenched in sweat, bared his fangs in frustration. “Then how does it work? You and Mum do it so easily!”

Harry placed a hand on Teddy’s shoulder. “It’s not about force—it’s about acceptance. You’re thinking of your hybrid form as something separate from your wolf form. But they’re both a part of you. You need to stop fighting it.”

Teddy took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He focused not on the transformation itself, but on the feeling of being a wolf—the way his senses expanded, the way the wind felt against fur, the way the earth called to his paws.

A shift happened. His body trembled, his limbs compressed, and before he knew it, he was no longer standing on two feet. His vision was sharper, lower to the ground. He turned his head, ears flicking instinctively at the night sounds.

Harry’s proud smile was the last thing he saw before instinct took over, and Teddy bolted into the woods, running as a wolf for the first time.

The next morning, Harry called the school and informed them that Teddy had recovered from his "illness" and was ready to return. As Teddy walked toward the car, more confident than ever, he couldn’t help but grin. He was stronger, faster, and sharper than ever—but most importantly, he was in control.