"You agreed?" The strange man was clearly taken aback. "You're really willing to let me travel with you and your friend?"
On his fierce, coarse, and vaguely defined face, those beetle-like eyes narrowed slightly.
"Of course," Jon replied evenly. "On an unfamiliar journey like this, isn't it better to have one more companion? And I should correct one thing—Mr. William Smith isn't my friend. Like you, he's someone I just met here, another traveler heading to Krujë."
As he spoke, Jon turned and gave Smith a faint smile. "I hope that didn't offend you, Mr. Smith."
"Not at all," William Smith replied, nodding with impeccable gentlemanly grace.
The strange man stood there squinting, casting a suspicious look at Jon before glancing again at the refined-looking Smith.
"If you plan to travel with us, you should at least tell us your name," Jon said with a smile, offering the suggestion in a friendly tone.
"Sandru," the strange man replied curtly.
"That's just a given name, not a surname…" Smith muttered softly from behind.
Jon, however, didn't seem to mind. He extended his hand politely. "Christopher Patrick."
Sandru hesitated for a moment, then reached out and shook Jon's hand. His sharp nails accidentally scraped across the back of Jon's hand, drawing a brief sting.
William Smith also paused for a moment, but in the end he followed Jon's example, stepping forward to shake Sandru's hand and exchange brief introductions.
"Then, gentlemen, shall we set off?" Smith suggested loudly afterward.
Sandru seemed to have no objection.
He returned to his table, grabbed the remaining half of a greasy roasted lamb leg, stuffed it into his pocket, and muttered, "Alright."
"Sorry, I think I may need to delay us briefly," Jon said apologetically, as if recalling something. "I seem to have left something in my room and need to go get it. Don't worry—it won't take long."
With that, Jon picked up his suitcase and hurried up the stairs.
Left behind, William Smith and Sandru stood facing each other, both watching the other with clear wariness.
...
Just as Jon had promised, he didn't spend much time in his room.
Barely five minutes later, he returned to the inn's dining area with his suitcase, gathered his two companions, and set off with them.
Since neither Jon nor Mr. Smith had ever been to Krujë before—and neither was familiar with the local Floo Network—they couldn't use Apparition or the Floo Network.
On top of that, they didn't know the locations of nearby Muggle villages along the route, and traveling by broom risked violating the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.
In the end, they had no choice but to rely on Muggle transportation and proceed south on foot toward Krujë.
As for Sandru, he remained silent for most of the journey, rarely speaking, keeping to the back, saying little.
Jon and Smith didn't bother asking his opinion and simply chatted with each other as they traveled.
"Patrick, I really think there's something wrong with that Sandru," Smith leaned in and whispered when he found an opening. "He looks dangerous—definitely not a good sort."
"Just an ordinary traveler," Jon replied casually. "At most, he seems a little strange. There's no need to be overly concerned, Mr. Smith."
Neither managed to convince the other, and so they continued on their way, letting the peculiar Sandru follow behind them.
...
Albania could truly be called one of the poorest countries in Europe—a small nation with an economy largely reliant on agriculture.
Many of the sights they passed along the road felt less like the late twentieth century and more like scenes from eighteenth- or nineteenth-century Europe.
Public security was also poor.
Along the way, they encountered three or four groups of locals with clearly ill intentions.
At times like these, Sandru's value became apparent. His ferocious appearance and powerful build were more than enough to intimidate those vagrants, sparing the group any real trouble.
On the map, the distance from Shkodër to Krujë was less than a hundred miles.
But thanks to the terrible road conditions, the journey took nearly an entire day.
By dusk, with the sun about to sink below the horizon, they finally stumbled their way to a small town less than five miles from Krujë.
"How about we find an inn and rest for a bit?" Jon suggested. "After a day like this, we're all probably exhausted. We can have dinner, take a short break, and then head out again under cover of night."
Sandru frowned slightly, casting Jon a wary glance.
Mr. Smith, however, readily agreed. "I'd be more than happy to. I'm completely worn out."
...
The inn they stopped at this time was clearly far worse than the one from the morning.
Jon slipped the innkeeper a ten-dollar bill as a tip and managed to secure a relatively quiet upstairs room.
Dinner, however, was just as terrible.
The pork chop seemed undercooked, the bread was hard as if it had been stored for years, the sandwich tasted faintly spoiled, and then—
"Damn it, there's sand in this wine!" Jon said darkly, setting down his glass. "This is unbearable. I need to go talk to the owner."
"It's the final stretch of the journey—just endure it," Smith sighed after putting down his own glass. "We're almost at our destination anyway. Better not stir up trouble…"
But Jon had already picked up the small barrel of wine and left the room.
Five minutes later, he returned carrying a fresh wooden barrel and three glass cups.
"A Confundus Charm," Jon said with a hint of satisfaction. "I made that Muggle bring out the best barrel he has."
As he spoke, he opened the barrel and poured out three full glasses.
"Go on, everyone, give it a try," Jon said loudly. "Once we finish this drink, let's get moving before it's completely dark and before the moon comes out, shall we?"
With that, he raised his glass and drained it in one go.
Mr. Smith followed suit, drinking his down without hesitation. Sandru paused for a moment, then slowly drank his.
"Speaking of which…" Jon's lips curved into a faint smile as he watched both of them finish their wine.
"That's because I believe… there's a werewolf among us."
"…So, Mr. Werewolf," he added calmly, "would you care to step forward and admit it?"