The sound of howling reached his ears far before he saw the monster. The daemon that stood before him was born of the nightmares of hapless kids, black fur shrouded in the dark, the yellow, sinister eyes were what Harry used to distinguish its position, before tracing his gaze around every outline in the monster's anatomy.
Another howl revealed venomous, tapered, sharp fangs, baleful yellow eyes promising pain and death.
The distance between them disappeared in a blink, claws charging straight at him, complimenting the projectile of the beast's lunge.
Harry drew his sword.
Blade silent as it left its sheath, he twirled it between fingers, eyes fixed on the abomination before him.
The beast completed its lunge, Harry sidestepped, slapping the paw away with the flat of his blade, there was a reverberating clang indicating the sound of two metals clashed against each other.
That was all the confirmation Harry had been looking for, only the paw bones of a fully grown hybrid were made of steel. He knew only of a way to kill the beast now and he knew he wasn't mistaken, how many times had he mastered the features of the hybrid alongside that of so many dark creatures at Perenelle's behest?
Slashing at the paws or hindlegs will do no good.
He moved aside once more to dodge a swipe, swiftness and fluidity inherent in his gait, the claws of the monster passing over his face at hair's breadth.
The dance had begun.
Fishing into the pockets of his pants to extricate a small paper bag filled with toxic powder, dousing all its content at the face of the monster.
Piercing, heart shuddering screams punctuated the night, acrid stench of poison hovering around the air, the wailing beast at the center of the malevolent atmosphere.
The dance with death.
Harry was already advancing, movement methodical and silent, attention focused on the trashing beast, he gripped his sword tightly, jaw set at the prospect of what must be done.
There would be no compromise, no negotiations, no quarter given.
He raised his sword, body angled sideways in a slight crouch, the sinister stygian blade glinting ominously in the glory of the full moon, the conviction of his actions had been unleashed even before his hands found the hilt of the sword.
The storm in his blood thundered unrestrained, up through his fingers, powering his muscles, fueling the last vestige of resolve to consummate the deadly thought.
A calm had settled in his middle, held firmly there by a terrible avalanche.(edited
In that instant, there was nothing that could deny Harry the monster's blood, for nothing less would stop him. Conviction burned away all reluctance.
His sword traveled its arc.
Nothing else mattered but purpose, and his singular purpose was to bring death raining down on this beast.
His vision tunneled his target, life narrowed down to that singular lethal commitment.
With all his power and might, he swung.
Time froze in that distinctive moment that signified the edge of life, blade whistling ominously as it descended its arc, landing upon that final vestige of the infinitesimal moment.
The blade caught the monster at the centre of the neck, exactly where Harry intended, spattering dark night with poisonous blood. Bone fragments and crimson droplets sprayed up, accompanied by the severed head of the blade's victim.
In that instant of shattering violence, the monster's life was gone. Harry's remorseless conviction shielded him from feeling the pain of any pity.
The severed head gathered speed in its descent, until it hit the ground with a heavy thud, bouncing and tumbling away through the night leaving a trail of gore to trace its crooked route.