The Italian Ministry of Magic.
Lorenzo's office.
He was staring at a huge, animated Map of Italy on the wall.
On the map, a dark green vortex representing Douglas Holmes was quietly spinning somewhere in the Apennine Mountains.
Just moments earlier, a dark red dot representing a "highly dangerous unregistered magical creature" had appeared out of nowhere along the map's northern border, flashing ominously. Then, without hesitation, it had begun moving steadily toward the green vortex.
Lorenzo's long fingers tapped lightly and rhythmically on his desk.
The curve of his lips resembled a freshly sharpened scalpel.
"Another mad dog."
He murmured to himself, his voice carrying a hint of cold appreciation.
He raised no alarm, nor did he dispatch any Aurors to intercept it.
"Holmes, let me see just how large a cage an animal trainer from abroad like you has prepared."
Lorenzo lightly touched the moving red dot on the map with a fingertip, as though crushing an insignificant flying insect.
He picked up his coffee and took a small sip, but his gaze turned toward the window with interest, as though enjoying a bloody opera about to begin.
Vatican City, inside a prayer room that saw no sunlight all year round.
Flickering candlelight illuminated an old man dressed in a plain monk's robe.
His face was shrouded in the shadow of his hood, impossible to make out clearly.
He was kneeling before a black marble platform without a cross.
An ancient basin of pure silver stood on the platform, filled with water as clear as a mirror.
The water's surface clearly reflected Fenrir Greyback's contorted figure as he raced through the mountain forest.
"A foolish beast. A mad dog led by desire."
The old man's voice was dry and hoarse, like dead leaves scraping against stone slabs.
He