When Hagrid heard that Harry had killed the vampire princess, he gave him one of his rib-cracking hugs. 

"Beautiful job o' work, Harry! Now, fancy a spot o' grub with His Grace the Duke before we shove off ter the Magic Mountains?" 

"Why not?" Harry wheezed. 

In the cavernous dining room, where swags and plaster garlands adorned the upper walls, an elaborate seven-course lunch was being served. When Harry strolled in, after taking a cold shower to cool his horniness, Hagrid, Ron, Hermione and the old duke were already tucking in. 

The old duke's shriveled face broke into a smile and with a bony finger he beckoned Harry to sit next to him. 

"However did you manage to avoid that vampire girl's clutches?" he said. "No other man has done so." His head bobbed over his devilled quails. 

"Please don't ask, Your Grace," Harry replied, his face reddening, "it's too embarrassing to talk about." Then he began munching on a quail. 

They were soon back on the road again, the long rattling ride making Harry's teeth ache. 

"Which o' them Mountains you goin' to first?" Hagrid asked. There's seven of 'em, yeh know." 

Gobs of sticky mud were slapping against the windshield. 

"I dunno exactly," Harry said. As usual, whenever he had to make a decision based on clever thinking, he turned to Hermione. "Any ideas, Herm?" 

Hermione was biting her lip, deep in thought. 

"They're all magical of course, but the one called Bear's Breath Mountain is the most dangerous." 

"Excellent," Harry said. "I'm a hero and I thrive on danger, let's go there." 

"Why is it called Bear's Breath?" Harry asked. 

"Because it's hot and wild," Ron said to Hermione with a wink. 

Hermione smiled at Ron. "Actually, it should be called Wolf's Breath because it's infested with werewolves," she said. 

"Good," Harry said. "We've got our wands, and if the worst comes to the worst Hermione knows a jinx that can turn us into wolves." 

He noticed that Ron's and Hermione's faces were white with fear. He wasn't feeling particularly brave himself, but he knew that as Harry Potter he wasn't allowed to back down. 

"If we're going to be fighting wolves," Ron said, "perhaps Hermione should stay behind with Hagrid and Fang." 

Hermione gave a weary sigh. 

"Listen, boy - I'm just as tough as you are, even though I am a girl." 

Ron and Harry laughed. Then Harry touched his forehead. A jolt of pain had just gone through his scar, warning him that extreme peril lay ahead. 

"Are you sure we ought to go there, Harry?" Hermione noticed him wince. 

He brushed his hair across his forehead to appear unconcerned. 

"Of course I am. We defeated Voldemort and his Death Eaters, didn't we? This'll be a piece of cake." 

After taking an uphill path that felt like they were going over a long succession of speed bumps, Hagrid stopped and allowed the three travelers to climb out. Night was beginning to fall. With Fang panting by his side he waved goodbye, and Harry looked up at the remainder of the path that rose steeply into the mountain. He saw a sheltering grove of trees on the crest of a foothill. 

"That looks a good place to spread our sleeping bags," he said. 

When they reached the grove, it was already night. From behind them, on a hill overlooking the grove, they heard a sound, like the clink of something metallic. They turned and peered into the wooded gloom.  

A man stood on the crest of the hill, having emerged from the trees. Then more men appeared, standing along the skyline. One of them pointed his arm toward the three backpackers and uttered a guttural cry. 

What on earth? Harry thought, then he gave a start. 

They were soldiers, but of an ancient army. He could make out the outlines of spears and the glint of winged helmets. He groped in his jeans pocket for his phone. If the worst came to the worst, he would send a last message to Ginny. 

They watched the warriors tramp down the hillside toward them, their thickly-accented voices ringing out in a battle chant. Their helmeted faces looked grim, and with their broadswords, axes and spears, they appeared to be ready for battle. 

Harry's features stiffened and he prepared to make his stand. 

The warriors suddenly halted and one of them, the lead warrior, a bearded man of about twenty-five, stepped forward. He stood with his face less than three feet from Harry's. 

"Are you human or just in human form?" he roared. 

"We're human," Harry said, surprised. "Why, what did you think we were?" 

The warrior made a gesture of apology. 

"Pardon, friend," he said. "We are part of the king's forces and we are hunting a pack of werewolves, the most cunning in Melloria." 

"Tell us your business here?" the lead warrior asked. 

"Um, well, we're just backpackers who left school last year, and we're visiting these mountains." 

"Tourists! You won't be much help to us then." 

"Well, actually we're also wizards," Harry admitted. 

The warrior smiled. "Then we have need of your wizardry. Will you join us?" 

"All right," Harry said, though Ron and Hermione were shaking their heads. "Let's go, guys." 

The three young wizards marched alongside the warriors, whose clanking metal and lusty war cries they found unsettling. After an hour they reached a tall ridge where the trees provided some shelter. Harry was about ready to drop, and he could see Ron and Hermione were equally exhausted. 

A thin sliver of moon had come up in the velvety sky. Silhouetted against it, the lead warrior looked down at the valley below them. When he was satisfied there was no danger, he motioned for his men to rest. The warriors opened their bundles and spread out a blanket laden with food and drink. They and the three travelers sat in a circle and were soon chomping their way through the food and tossing back goblets of wine.  

Turning away from the clanking, chomping warriors, Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione. 

"We'd better keep our eyes peeled when we go through that valley." 

Having exhausted the food and wine, the warriors stumbled to their feet.  

"Men of the King's army," the lead warrior said, pointing to the other side of the valley, "our enemies are lying in wait for us. On to victory!" 

The others roared a reply, shaking their weapons over their heads. Grasping their spears, the marched down the hillside, with the three travelers struggling to keep up. 

They were passing through a dense thicket of bushes when Harry heard a strange barking voice calling him by his name. Other voices joined in and the warriors stopped. His stomach turned over. It was Greyback, the werewolf who had been hired by Voldemort to wear Death Eater robes, and his pack. 

After a time the voices died away and the warriors continued marching. The lead warrior gave Harry a strange look of fear mixed with respect. Each warrior gripped his spear tightly, straining to catch the slightest noise in the silence. 

Harry felt a surge of fear in his scar. A colossal furry something was rushing out of the bushes toward him. He turned to Hermione who pointed her wand at him. There was a burst of white light and he suddenly had four legs and a furry back. He leapt aside and avoided Greyback's jaws. 

A howl from Greyback, the pack leader, was the signal for all the others to come running out from their cover. Soon the warriors were in the middle of a hostile mass hurtling them backwards or sideways with the impact of their heavy bodies. 

Harry knew he would have to stay on his feet as the wolves surged around him. He was bitten several times, but managed to snap and slash as a wolf. He learned to find an individual wolf, surprise it and knock it off its feet. Then he drove in with his teeth at the soft throat. 

His jaws weren't large enough or strong enough to make his throat attacks deadly, but he was able to lacerate several of the attackers. 

The warriors began a counterattack with spears and axes, and - with the exception of Greyback - the wolves were compelled to bunch together for mutual protection. Greyback continued to attack, his eyes gleaming with hatred and his fangs dripping. 

Hermione turned Ron and herself into wolves and they attacked any wolves they caught outside the bunch. Ron, a ginger wolf, went on a wild chase after an escaping wolf through the woods. 

The wolves were falling back now, pursued by the warriors, hacking and slashing with spears, broadswords and axes. Only Greyback turned on his own pursuer and ripped his throat open. The battle was now one-sided, but still Greyback didn't retreat. He thrashed at the warriors, avoided their spears, and with a snarl and a flash of fangs launched himself at Harry. 

Before he landed, Hermione's wolf, a sleek brown female, slender and rangy, struck without warning. Greyback was knocked off his feet and his throat was bitten. While he was struggling to his feet, Ron's ginger wolf sank his teeth into his shoulder. He made another futile rush at Harry, snapping thin air as Harry veered away. Then Ron's wolf bit his nose and he staggered backward away from the battle. 

The situation was now reversed and the three wizards turned wolves stood over him, bristling with menace, while Greyback prepared to retreat. Knowing he was outclassed, he slunk away out of sight. 

To maintain their dignity, the three wolf-wizards found individual bushes to crawl under and await their transformation back to human form. Harry licked his flesh wounds delicately. 

"Thank you, guys," he called out as he crawled, naked, toward his clothes. "I owe my life to you."

Another dangerous adventure for the famous three. Read, vote and comment, please.