"...You promised me, as long as I cooperated with you, you'd let me go!"
The man suddenly became agitated and tried to free himself from his restraints—the ropes binding his hands grew tighter the more he struggled, causing him excruciating pain. He couldn't help but let out a low growl of pain, his facial features scrunched up in agony.
"I said, wait another three days."
William's expression remained unchanged despite the man's growls. He waved his hand in the air—
"Accio Billywig stinger—"
In the next moment, a bottle filled with Billywig stingers flew off the shelf and landed steadily in William's palm.
"That's what you said three days ago!"
The man growled, his voice sounding as if it was forced out of his throat.
"Ah... did I say that?"
Picking up a small knife and another empty bottle from the table, William bent down in front of Fenrir. The sharp blade sliced across the man's cheek, and fresh blood slowly trickled down the cut.
"You... you never intended to let me leave, did you?"
Despair coursed through the man's contorted face. Never before had he felt this helpless when facing a wizard one-on-one. The fear this young wizard caused him was second only to that of the one whose name cannot be spoken. But William, he looked merely sixteen or seventeen—a Hogwarts student, perhaps?
At his age, shouldn't he be attending school instead of casting spells outside of it?
"Smart. Do you want a reward?"
William said nonchalantly as he sealed the now-full glass bottle of blood. He stood up and sat down next to the only table in the room, placing the summoned stingers on his right.
With a casual wave of his hand, the wound on the man's face began to slowly heal.
"I just want to leave now, you can't keep me locked up like this—it's against wizard law!"
"Does wizard law say it's prohibited to detain a werewolf trying to bite people on a full moon?"
William's retort left Fenrir speechless for a few moments, after which the man started howling in anger, spouting the vilest curses he could think of—but soon enough, his lips were magically sealed shut.
Finally, peace and quiet.
This werewolf was encountered by William half a month ago when he first arrived here. Having nothing on him, he intended to find a Black Wizard to try his luck—and stumbled upon this werewolf who was planning to break into a house under the full moon.
"Werewolf," this incurable contagious disease always left its victims with a desire to wreak havoc on society. William had met many such... dangerous individuals.
That night, unable to find any other Black Wizards by dawn, the werewolf named Fenrir Greyback became his only trophy. As it turned out, the werewolf was carrying a suitcase enchanted with the Traceless Extension Charm, filled with common magic materials, which he claimed was a delivery to Hogsmeade.
For some reason, William always felt this werewolf gave off the vibe of a noob village treasure box monster.
Regarding the explanations given, William didn't quite buy them. Why would someone trust an unpredictable werewolf to transport and guard a suitcase with an Extension Spell enchantment on it?
And this suitcase filled with magic materials?
Unless whoever gave the task was out of their mind.
But when a werewolf brings materials right to your door, William had no reason to refuse. So, he decided to start a project. Knowing that all werewolves lose control on full moon nights—
On the flip side, this involuntary transformation actually strengthens these inherently weak-bodied wizards.
By understanding the relationship between werewolves and moonlight, perhaps he could develop a potion or tool to enhance oneself using moonlight. Just like Sailor Moon...
The passage of time seems to fly by during research, compounded by the suitcase's environment indistinguishable between day and night. By the time William emerged from it, two full days had passed outside—
Nearing starvation, he decided to whip up some ramen in the kitchen. It was the only food the villa's previous owner left that William found palatable. Don't even mention the fish pie in the fridge... ugh.
There was always the option to eat out, however...
Does it make sense to hunt for food in the London, where of ten Michelin-starred restaurants, nine are French and the other Italian?
Not to mention, he's currently quite far from London City.
Forgive him, but William's taste buds have been spoiled and would never accept fish and chips.
Sitting at the dining table, watching tomato slices queue to dive into the pot, William wiped his mouth. Truth be told, he began missing the compliant little elves in Hogwarts' kitchens—he wondered if the century-old Chinese recipes he shared with them had been lost.
Setting aside half a bowl of noodles, William remembered he had a captive—before he came upstairs, the werewolf's eyes were practically green with hunger.
This mundane yet amusing lifestyle continued for about a week. Despite William's desire to find a Black Wizard to try his luck, it seemed the famed wizards had vanished after a century in the UK—
Did the Great War and World War II wipe out all the Black Wizards?
...
August 12, Wednesday.
An oddly dressed visitor came to Privet Drive today. Even with the harsh summer sun overhead, he was still cloaked under a thick black robe.
Greasy black hair clung to the man's gaunt cheeks, with a prominent hooked nose and curled lips complementing his sallow complexion. The long black robe billowed behind him as he walked, making him appear like an oily bat.
The man scanned the house number plates with his black eyes until he found the numbers "12" in brass. His gaze shifted slightly.
He headed quickly into the garden, making his way to the front door, but a bundled-up rag blocked his path—
"H"?
Seeing the capital letter sticking out from the rag, the man's gaze flickered. After a moment's hesitation, he bent down and picked up the blue rag, unfolding it. The morning dew had made the contents nearly unreadable, but the man could still discern the signature at the bottom—
"Harry Potter—"
The man's tone lingered as images of those striking green eyes appeared before him... and a face he loathed.
He instinctively turned to look back at the house behind him, recognizing it as number 4 Privet Drive, home to Harry Potter's foolish Muggle relatives. He noted the newly re-secured iron bars on the upstairs window, then lowered his gaze to the rag still hinting at a plea for help—
Giving a cold snort, he tucked the rag into his cloak's pocket.
The mischief-prone brat, it's best if he's locked at home unable to go to Hogwarts—the old man kept harping about that so-called magic of "love." Let Harry Potter stay with his family then, when You-Know-Who returns, he can use that magic to "love" him to death—
Smirking as he hid the rag, the man resumed his walk towards 12 Privet Drive's front door, unaware his every move had been closely watched by someone sipping coffee at a window above.
"Ding—"
The doorbell rang, and the door opened from the inside to reveal a boy, only half-visible.
"You should..."
The man lifted his chin slightly, beginning to speak softly.
"I have no money or food for you, but the old lady next door is quite kind—" The boy gestured to the house on the left, speaking sincerely, "perhaps you could try your luck over there..."
"..."
"Oh, and no need to thank me."
"Click—"
Under the man's gaze, the just-opened door closed once more.
"?"