Chapter 109
The aftermath of the Rowl family incident is still raging.
After the fall of the Rowl family, the lives of the werewolf clans that relied on their financial power and resources were greatly impacted.
In the wizarding world, werewolves are heavily discriminated against by wizards due to their potential dangers. Almost all werewolves are unable to find decent jobs and live in extreme poverty.
Thus, a group of werewolves led by Fenrir Greyback turned to some pureblood families, like the Rowl family, to obtain the resources necessary for survival. In exchange, they would carry out tasks that the pureblood families could not do openly.
When the Rowl family fell, the isolated werewolves were still unaware of what had happened, and only realized something was wrong when this month's supplies did not arrive as expected.
Fenrir believed they should turn to another pureblood family, but not all of his werewolves agreed with his view. Some werewolves were tired of relying on others and chose to leave.
In their desperation from hunger and cold, these werewolves returned to thievery, robbery, and arson, posing a threat to both the wizarding and Muggle communities.
Meanwhile, the Ministry of Magic was in chaos.
Every day, the Ministry received at least thirty reports of werewolf crimes. Aurors, hit wizards, and investigation teams were frequently dispatched, but they still couldn't keep up. Often, just as one werewolf case was dealt with, more cases would spring up elsewhere.
On this day, in a remote village in Yorkshire.
The village was attacked by five werewolves, with screams, cries, and the sounds of burning houses ringing out.
Three Aurors who were patrolling a nearby village arrived in time and engaged in intense combat with the werewolves.
Werewolves are extremely dangerous to ordinary wizards, but their strength seemed inadequate against the trained Aurors. If it weren't for their numerical advantage, these werewolves would have been captured long ago.
One particularly clever werewolf, sensing the tide turning, betrayed his companions and made a break for it, dashing into the dense, eerie woods.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was very frustrated; today was supposed to be his day off, but this careless group of werewolves had caused him to work overtime.
His supervisor, Scrimgeour, did not have the best relationship with him. Despite his efforts to remain low-key, he knew that his pureblood background had attracted some hostility towards him—this mission was one that Scrimgeour had shoved onto him without even a chance for discussion. If it were just a mission, it would be fine, but the most annoying part was being assigned to patrol in a remote area, which was tiring and often yielded no results, offering no help to his accomplishments. It felt like a waste of time.
He was angry and swore he would bring these werewolves to justice and release his pent-up frustration.
As he saw the werewolves beginning to falter, he started to feel triumphant, but unexpectedly, one werewolf made a run for it!
This won't do! None of you will escape my grasp! This was the first thought that crossed Kingsley's mind.
So, he pursued it alone, running into the woods.
He had absolute confidence in his strength; among a group of over thirty Aurors, he ranked in the top five. It was undeniable that Scrimgeour was a bit stronger than him, but the likes of Robards were at most on par with him, and if he unleashed his family's secret techniques, he believed he could surpass them.
Against a lone werewolf, even with the advantage of terrain and timing, it should have been no challenge for him!
However, he was wrong—very wrong.
In the woods, he spotted the werewolf, and in its eyes, he saw little fear—only indifference and cruelty.
The werewolf transformed into a shadow and lunged at him.
Kingsley knew that werewolf fur had a high resistance to magic and that he needed to attack physically. He quickly swung his wand, unleashing a whirlwind and flames from its tip, accurately hitting the werewolf and sending it crashing back three feet.
The scent of burning flesh wafted from the werewolf, indicating it had been injured, but it did not retreat; it became even more enraged, arching its body as its fur bristled like spikes, preparing for another attack.
Kingsley waved his wand, controlling the withered branches and giant stones to hurl towards the werewolves, putting the werewolves in a difficult situation as they dodged left and right.
Just as the werewolves' dodging space was gradually being compressed and Kingsley felt victory was within reach, he suddenly sensed danger. He dodged swiftly, and a blue light narrowly grazed his body. He hurriedly looked back.
From the trees came an unpleasant cackling laughter.
Perched on a thick branch was a hideous old witch.
"Annis, is that you!" Kingsley began to feel something was wrong in his heart. He continuously cast spells in defense against the advancing werewolves while shouting, "Even the Night Witches have intervened in these attacks on civilians?"
After skillfully evading Annis's attack and sending another werewolf flying, he coldly said, "This time, none of you will escape!"
Just as he finished speaking, Kingsley's expression changed drastically; he realized he couldn't move.
"What's happening?" He completely did not understand what was going on, and he would not have the chance to know the truth.
Because at that moment, he saw a huge werewolf figure lunging towards him, intense pain erupted from his neck, and he closed his eyes.
Next to Kingsley's body, his shadow slowly writhed as if it had come to life.
After a moment, the shadow protruded from the ground and gradually transformed into a solid form.
The werewolf lowered its hands and knelt respectfully.
"Tsk tsk..." Annis voiced her dissatisfaction, "Bartoli, I have to say, your shadow binding spell doesn't seem very effective; the preparation took too long. If it weren't for me and the little wolf working together to hold this guy down, your trick wouldn't have worked at all!"
Bartoli's eyes gleamed with shrewdness. "Have you thought about why among so many different races, young Master Malfoy specifically chose our two clans as allies?"
"Hmph!" Annis retorted, "Isn't it obvious? It's because our two clans have unpredictable and sinister methods that align with his style of working in the shadows and benefit his plans!"
Bartoli slowly shook his head. "What you said is only part of it. Don't forget that ogres, royalty, and banshees all have their secret techniques, which are no worse than ours..."
"Then why do you think that is?" Annis raised an eyebrow.
"I think," Bartoli pondered for a moment before slowly responding, "it's because the abilities of our two clans can complement each other, making us suitable for cooperation. Young Master Malfoy must have recognized this point—he's such a thoughtful person, he wouldn't overlook how our vampire clan's shadow magic and hypnosis magic, combined with your Night Witches' mental control magic and poison-casting magic, can form various tactical combinations..."
"I say, do you think too highly of him? How could he, at his age, have such a clear understanding of our abilities?" Although Annis said this, she recalled the magical anomalies exhibited by Soren when he recruited her, causing her to shiver and doubt her own words.
The corners of Bartoli's mouth lifted slightly. "See? You think so too; you're just too stubborn to admit it."
"Hmph! The old hag is getting on in years, and the thought of being bossed around by a little brat is naturally displeasing." Seeing Bartoli's unfriendly expression, Annis quickly changed her tone. "But there's nothing that can be done; who told the young master to come from such a prestigious background and possess astonishing power? Honestly, it's lucky for the old hag to be able to follow him—" At this point, Annis instinctively lowered her voice to murmur, "I certainly don't want to become his enemy..."
Bartoli did not respond.
She turned to the werewolf, "What about you?" Her tone was very serious, tinged with a bit of coldness. "Did you harm any innocent villagers?"
"No, really not," the werewolf lowered its head in fear. "Everything is according to the instructions of the young master and the two of you. We only scared the villagers a bit and casually started a fire; absolutely no one was harmed. Everything we did was to support our master's plan..."
"That's good; if the master finds out that any innocents were harmed, none of us can protect you!"
"Yes, yes," the werewolf hurriedly nodded and bowed, "the werewolf knows and will definitely not make it difficult for the two of you."
"What about your four werewolf companions?" A smile appeared in Bartoli's eyes.
"They won't listen to me and only want to return to that useless Fenrir. Although Fenrir has already teamed up with the Selwyn family, how can the Selwyn family compare to the young master?" The werewolf clenched his teeth and thought fiercely, "Since they are so stubborn, it's their own fault. This time, they deserve to become the sacrificial pawns. Let them be shot down by the Ministry of Magic!"
"Very well, let's go! The young master is waiting for our news; it must be getting anxious."
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