Seated on the giant eagle's back, Jon soared through the night sky, letting the cold evening wind rake across his cheeks.
The pitch-black canopy above was studded with countless stars. Gentle moonlight bathed Jon in silver, illuminating the path ahead for the great eagle as it flew.
To be honest, Jon didn't particularly enjoy this kind of flight. It made him feel distinctly unsafe—probably a lingering psychological shadow left by his experiences with flying broomsticks.
He lightly gripped the feathers on the eagle's back, doing his best not to look down. Even if he did, the darkness below revealed nothing but blackness.
Jon had recognized the polite British gentleman as a werewolf at first glance. The identity of the other odd figure, Sandru, however, had puzzled him for quite some time.
If it wasn't mere coincidence, the only reasonable conclusion was that Sandru was an indigenous Albanian wizard with ties to the local magical authorities.
To apply a bit of pressure, Jon had deliberately chosen an especially shocking method to kill the werewolf and incinerate the body. The result had been quite effective. Sandru had clearly been intimidated and revealed his true identity almost immediately.
It was a shame that the werewolf's soul—Gene's—had gone to waste.
Werewolves were classified by the International Confederation of Wizards as members of the "human" category rather than "magical creatures."
That meant their souls met the requirements for Horcrux creation. Moreover, warped by curses and soaked in bloodshed, a werewolf's soul was undoubtedly stronger than that of an ordinary wizard.
Using Gene's soul to create a Horcrux for Astoria, following the original plan, would have had a higher success rate than killing an average Death Eater.
That was why Jon had hesitated earlier—whether to spare the werewolf's life as a backup option. Unfortunately, the full moon was approaching too quickly.
Before he could reach a final decision, the werewolf had already begun to transform. To ensure his own safety, Jon had no choice but to end his life with silver bullets, then burn the corpse with Fiendfyre—incidentally serving as a warning to Sandru.
According to Gene's memories, however, their leader Fenrir Greyback was currently operating not far from Albania, carrying out a mission for the Dark Lord.
Greyback bore far deeper curses and had taken far more innocent lives; his soul would likely be even stronger—perhaps second only to Voldemort himself.
Unfortunately, Greyback was surrounded by dozens of werewolf followers. Attempting to capture him alive was clearly unrealistic.
...
They flew through the night sky for who knew how long, until Jon's cheeks had grown numb from the cold.
They seemed to pass over a town, then into the clouds, and then began ascending a mountain. Suddenly, Jon heard several sharp bird cries echoing from both sides.
By the light of the moon, he saw two more giant eagles, each no smaller than Sandru. Like escorts, they flanked them on either side, soaring together toward the mountain peak.
Sandru answered them with a low call.
"Are they Animagus too? Members of the Skanderbeg family?" Jon wondered silently.
Soon, Sandru carried him over the far side of the mountain and began a rapid descent. The other two giant eagles stayed with them as they passed a towering statue and finally landed in a broad plaza.
Jon quickly jumped down from Sandru's back. Behind him, the giant eagle slowly transformed back into human form.
"Good evening… Skarel, Solondo! Thank you for coming to welcome me!" Sandru laughed heartily, stepping forward to hug each of them in turn.
The two eagles affectionately pecked at his back before taking off again, flying toward the hillside, where numerous eagle nests could be seen.
"So they're not Animagus," Jon mused as he watched them go. "Just ordinary magical creatures… or perhaps simply beasts."
"Welcome to Krujë!" Sandru turned to Jon, his rugged face split by a broad grin. In his somewhat clumsy English, he added, "The Mountain of Eagle Nests!"
...
"You're an Animagus?" Jon asked, unable to hide his curiosity.
"Animagus…" Sandru repeated the word with some effort. "That's what you British call wizards who can turn into animals, right? We don't call it that. In Krujë, every descendant of Skanderbeg can become a giant eagle."
"Every single one?" Jon frowned.
"Of course—every one!" Sandru nodded proudly as he waved his hand. Several candlesticks around the platform burst into flame, instantly lighting the entire area.
"You don't use wands?" Jon pressed on.
"That's right," Sandru replied. "Only you foreigners like those little sticks. The descendants of Skanderbeg don't need them. Come with me—if you want to meet the elders."
...
Every member of the Skanderbeg family was an Animagus?
The revelation genuinely shocked Jon. As far as he knew, Animagus transformation was an extremely complex branch of magic with a very high failure rate.
Moreover, it was closely tied to one's Patronus—even among wizards of the same bloodline, Patronuses could never be identical. The idea that every single person transformed into a giant eagle was baffling.
What was more, Sandru—this Animagus wizard standing before him—seemed very different from the traditional Animagus Jon understood.
Although Jon himself was not an Animagus, by his third year he had already memorized Advanced Guide to Transfiguration, which detailed Animagus magic in depth. He knew the basics well enough.
And now Sandru claimed they didn't even use wands.
Which could only mean one thing…
Connecting this with historical context—according to Alien Shafiq's European Travelogue, George Skanderbeg had grown up in the Ottoman Empire, received extensive education under the Ottoman sultans, and became a distinguished general before later rebelling and founding Albania.
And based on Sandru's words, the Skanderbeg family had been a lineage of wizards for more than five hundred years.
If so, could it be that the magic represented by the Skanderbeg family—and by Albania itself—did not originate from the Northern European magical tradition at all?