Harry took Sirius Black's words to heart, and an image naturally surfaced in his mind.
But before that image in his mind could fully appear, a new one jumped out—Ron staring at him with a serious face.
At that thought, he hurriedly shook his head, trying to fling both images out of his mind.
"Er... well..." His tone carried a trace of unease as he tried to figure out how to change the subject.
Just then, a cold wind swept past. He shivered and instinctively wrapped his robes tighter around himself. "Why don't we go back to the inn?"
"Good idea!" Sirius Black nodded in agreement, took out a pocket watch, and held it close to his eyes to check the time. "It's already this late... We really should head back and rest!"
"I think everyone must be tired!" He looked at Vizet and said, "Vizet, I've already booked out that inn. Why don't you stay here for the night?"
"If you go back now..." He looked at the pocket watch and checked the time again. "It's already the latter half of the night over there. You'd be cutting it far too close."
Vizet had just been about to say something when he felt something strange in his pocket.
It was Serena Pendragon's notebook. When he opened the notebook, he saw two lines of familiar handwriting appear on it.
[Did you do something? Why are all the werewolves I ran into practically dead?]
[They collapsed stiffly on the ground and didn't move at all. Even when I cut them in half, they didn't wake up.]
Seeing the final sentence Serena Pendragon had written, Vizet's eyelid twitched.
He could imagine the scene—when Serena Pendragon saw the werewolf in front of her fall to the ground, after some study, she impatiently cast