Smugglers and Werewolves

Shadowless Speed

Sagreles vanished from where he stood.

In the headmaster's office, the old headmaster suddenly looked toward Sagreles's office, his aged face filled with helplessness...

Rotten mud squelched beneath his boots. Following the scent of blood, Sagreles cut through the Man-Eating Vines blocking his path and arrived at the small town Nightingale had mentioned in her letter.

Black magical flames burned throughout the town. He crouched down and picked up an ice crystal wrapped around a werewolf fang from the soft, wet mud.

This was Nightingale's handiwork, the signature spell he had tailor-made for her before entering Azkaban.

And the chaos at the scene pointed to only one possibility.

—She had been attacked.

Expressionlessly crushing the ice crystal in his hand, Sagreles drew his wand and decisively fired a brilliant burst of spell light into the sky.

The spell light shrieked through the air before exploding high above into the horrifying image of a black raven's head.

Two seconds later, a streak of purple spell light rose eight hundred yards away and burst into an elegant nightingale pattern.

Sagreles breathed a sigh of relief. Then he transformed into a black raven-shaped shadow, shot into the air, and flew swiftly toward the direction from which Nightingale had sent her signal.

The scenery below flashed past. He saw intermittent blood trails and three mangled corpses.

One had been pinned to a tree by an ice spike. The other two had been severed in half and tossed carelessly into the mud. Pure white ice crystals protruded from their broken waists and abdomens, nearly freezing the remains solid.

Suddenly, a sluggish sensation came from the air. Sagreles immediately understood. The enemy's dark wizards had used an alchemical array to set up an anti-Apparition device. It seemed they had come prepared.

Following the guidance, he arrived at the heart of the battlefield, where a vast stretch of wildly writhing Bloodthirsty Snake Vines came into view.

These twisted vine-like magical plants were frantically spreading across the battlefield, the savage snake heads at their tips gaping as they searched everywhere for prey.

Sagreles suddenly dove from the sky, smashing into the ground like a meteor.

"Nether Fiendfyre!"

Pale flames blossomed from the tip of his wand, and a pure white Patronus emerged from within them.

The instant it appeared, it first flew upward into the sky, then abruptly turned and plunged headfirst toward the ground.

"Boom—"

At the Patronus's landing point, a massive wave of fire swept outward. Every Bloodthirsty Snake Vine turned to ash the instant it touched the flames, unable even to struggle.

The eerie white flames did not harm anything else. After burning away those dangerous magical plants, each patch of fire transformed into tiny white birds and gathered in the air, reforming into the Patronus that had just been summoned.

Only then did Sagreles finally see the battlefield after the snake vines had been cleared away.

Ice and fire divided this small battlefield into two halves. On the left was a boiling swamp blazing with black fire, while on the right stood clusters of sharp ice spikes three meters tall.

At the boundary between ice and fire, a black-robed corpse had been pierced through by ice shards, its body still frozen in the pose of casting a spell to attack before death.

The moment he took in the battlefield, five black-robed wizards emerged from the black flames. Behind them, a large group of newly made Inferi staggered along after them.

Sagreles ignored the gloomy-faced dark wizards and turned toward the right side of the battlefield.

Nightingale rose from the rotting swamp. Her silver-white hair was caked with mud, while the blood droplets congealed at its ends fell as sparks—an omen that her Veela bloodline was about to go berserk.

She bent over with her hands on her knees, panting raggedly. Yet none of that could conceal one thing—her soul-stealing beauty.

That was also why these dark wizards had been willing to pay such a terrible price to capture her. Her beauty far surpassed that of a Veela. Selling her to the goblins would surely earn them a fortune!

Seeing that she could still hold on, Sagreles gave her a slight nod before decisively raising his wand at the culprits who were trying to speak.

Ignoring the lead dark wizard's attempt to negotiate, he uttered the incantation in a cold, resolute voice.

"Frenzied Explosion!"

A thick crimson beam shot from his wand like lightning, directly cutting off the lead dark wizard's words.

"Boom!"

After the deafening blast, a huge crater had been blown into the ground, charred patterns radiating from its center.

Dozens of Inferi were wiped out by the blasting curse. Of the five dark wizards, only the leader remained, his limbs broken and his body covered in wounds. The rest had been blown into ash.

"Ah—wait... in Merlin's name!"

The surviving dark wizard threw away his broken wand and groaned as he raised his severed hands over his head.

"We're only hounds paid to do a job. Please spare me. I'm willing to serve you, anything..."

Sagreles nodded. "I only need you to do one thing..."

As if knowing what he was about to say, the dark wizard moved his ruined hand. An intact wand suddenly appeared in it—"Avada—"

"Hiss—"

Red light flashed. A silent cutting curse, sharp enough to slice through iron, swept along his wand, severing four fingers clutching it along with half his head.

"I knew it..." Sagreles turned away disdainfully and walked toward Nightingale.

"Watch out!" Just as he helped Nightingale up, her urgent cry rang out.

A towering werewolf suddenly leaped from the boiling mud, lunging fiercely at Sagreles. Burning black flames clung to its sharp claws.

"Scarlet Rend!"

While the werewolf was still in midair, Sagreles had already pointed his wand at where it would land.

A shrill red flash streaked past, and the lunging werewolf instantly turned into a puddle of red liquid that shot back even faster.

"No!"

The instant the werewolf was torn apart and melted by the spell, an enraged roar came from the distance.

Sagreles flicked his wand, and the flying red liquid abruptly solidified into countless crimson crystals that shot toward the source of the roar.

Then he waved a hand, summoning a gentle breeze to disperse the smoke across the field. Only then did he clearly see the person who had just roared.

"I was wondering who it was..." Sagreles's voice was calm as still water. "So it's the infamous werewolf leader, the wanted criminal who kills Muggles for sport... Fenrir Greyback!"

As his words fell, a tall figure emerged from the thinning smoke. He had already reverted from his werewolf form to human form, but his twisted face and sharp yellowed teeth still clearly bore werewolf traits.

After the attack from those crimson crystals, Fenrir was covered in tiny wounds. His tangled hair was soaked with mud and blood, clumped together in a hideous, feral mess.

"I know you, Sagreles..." His hoarse voice squeezed out of his throat, carrying obvious hatred and disgust.

As he spoke, his yellowed eyes swept over Nightingale behind Sagreles, and the loathing in them was no less than what he felt for Sagreles.

It was this woman who had caused them devastating losses, even costing his younger brother his life...

Greyback dug out a crimson crystal embedded in his body and clenched it tightly in his hand—it was his brother's blood.

"Whelp of the Greengrass family, let's leave things at that today. I won't—"

"Did I say we were leaving things at that?"

Sagreles coldly cut off the werewolf, the wand in his hand ready to strike.

"Do you want to be marked by the Blood Moon Alliance?" Greyback forced down the urge to transform, practically squeezing the words through his teeth. "Kill me, and you'll become prey for every werewolf..."

"Heh, hunt me?" Sagreles scoffed. "With wolf pups infected by a stray dog like you?"

He toyed with the old secondhand wand in his hand, shook his head, and spoke with contempt. "Or do you actually think you're somebody?"

The intense humiliation filled Greyback with rage. His spine began to crackle, and then the fury surged from his chest into his throat—

"Awooo—"

Like metal scraping mixed with thick, bloody spittle, Fenrir Greyback's last shred of reason vanished along with that howl.

Saliva streaked with blood dripped from between his fangs, while the hot breath he sprayed as he howled reeked of rotting flesh.

He, the mad wizard who had willingly infected himself with wolfbane to gain power!

He, the werewolf leader who had slaughtered countless Muggles and infected numerous wizards!

He, the magical creature who had spread endless terror and created innumerable bloody curses!

Was actually being pointed at by a lowly wizard's wand, berated and humiliated like a dog being trained.

Rage gave him strength!

As wolf-form Fenrir lunged through the foul wind, Sagreles casually cast a silent Freezing Charm. The savage werewolf instantly froze like an insect trapped in amber.

Then he casually lifted swamp water with his wand. Under the Transfiguration Spell, the liquid transformed into a cage of spikes, trapping the werewolf again just as it broke free.

The spiked cage then burst into flames, tormenting the battered werewolf until he was utterly ruined.

The string of humiliating attacks left Greyback with no more furious howls in his throat, only the whimpers of a defeated dog.

Yet he still muttered through sobs, "You don't dare kill me. You can't bear the Blood Moon Alliance's mark of pursuit..."

Sagreles bent down close to the werewolf, pressed his wand against the other's violently beating heart, and said indifferently, "Then let your wolf pups come and try!"

"Magic Rampage!"

An unusual glimmer flashed from the wand's tip. Fenrir began screaming uncontrollably, reverting to human form amid his steadily weakening cries.

Fenrir Greyback was dead.

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