Curses didn't affect werewolves like they did regular men. Nothing that Rabastan threw at Fenrir in his emotional state met their mark as they were intended. All it took was a couple of steps in Rabastan's direction for the werewolf to overpower the wizard without the use of magic. Fenrir kept his weapons with him at all times. He was the weapon. A scratch across his face slowed the wizard down enough that Fenrir was able to rip his throat out with his bare hands. It was a ghastly way to go, but considering the sorts of deaths Rabastan had been granting for much of his life, it was only fair. As he laid on the floor of Fenrir's cottage bleeding out and gasping for breath, Hermione almost felt sorry for him.