Wizet waved his wand, and the laboratory ceiling turned transparent, allowing him to see the scene beyond the window.
After conducting the experiment so many times, he knew how much longer Fenrir Greyback needed before transforming into a werewolf.
"Mr. Greyback, it's about time..." As his voice fell, a glass bottle flew out of his pocket. "Drink the potion first!"
The glass bottle drifted toward Fenrir Greyback. Fenrir Greyback recognized at once that it contained an unfinished Wolfsbane Potion.
"Damn it! Damn it!" He kept cursing, using it to vent the hatred in his heart.
He loathed this sense of powerlessness. He was like a toad being used to test potions, helplessly at Wizet's mercy...
Yet as an experimental subject, he was simply too powerless. Other than venting through verbal abuse, he could make no further attempt at resistance.
As the glass bottle tilted, its cap twisted open as well. Fenrir Greyback tried to resist again, pressing his lips tightly together and clenching his back teeth, doing everything he could to keep his mouth shut.
His resistance was meaningless. Once the Wolfsbane Potion flowed from the mouth of the bottle, an invisible force appeared, forcibly prying open his mouth and sending the Wolfsbane Potion down his throat.
The glass bottle returned to the pocket, and Wizet spoke. "Mr. Greyback, you should actually be grateful to me..."
"Fortunately, my potion-making skills are passable. If it were those potion experiments from your memories..."
Wizet did not finish the sentence, but Fenrir Greyback understood what he meant.
Fenrir Greyback had to admit that Wizet's words... were not wrong in the slightest.
When Voldemort launched the wizarding war in England, there had been potioneers among his many allies, and he had seen how they tested potions.
The Muggles used in those potion experiments were