The footsteps in the Gori stopped. He looked at the moving stone chains, then at the clearing in the woods just outside the cave entrance. He took a deep breath, turned around helplessly, and went back to sit down in the deepest corner of the cave.
My back rested against the stone wall again, in that familiar spot.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the next person, whether it was Dumbledore or Hagrid.
He needed to come up with a story, and his plans had to change. Ulric had betrayed his oath, but what about the other clans? What about the Werewolf?
The stone chain slowly stopped moving after he retreated, returning to a still wall.
In the Gori, he sat leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on the empty cave entrance.
Before long, it got dark outside, and the shadows of the trees blurred into dark outlines in the twilight. Familiar footsteps echoed through the woods.
The footsteps echoed heavily through the woods, accompanied by thuds, like a truck driving by, completely oblivious to the gravel on the road.
"It must be Hagrid. I didn't expect Hagrid to arrive so quickly. Looks like he really cares about his pet." Gori murmured to himself with a self-deprecating tone, while also feeling a little more relaxed. Dealing with Hagrid was relatively easy, Dumbledore coming in person, making it easier for him to fabricate lies, or rather, to mix the truth with some vague statements.
Hagrid quickly entered the cave, his boots crunching over the broken vines and scattered rocks, making dull thuds as he kicked them.
He took long strides, with a hurried, heavy rhythm, completely disregarding the road conditions beneath his feet.
The vines at the cave entrance had been cut into pieces, and dark green sap was slowly seeping from the cuts. The air was filled with a burnt smell mixed with blood and ashes.
Hagrid's gaze quickly swept over the horrific scene in the cave. His expression was initially somewhat anxious, but upon seeing that his pets were all in good condition and their numbers were intact, his expression immediately softened.
The Vampire henchmen who had been drained of blood in the Gori have now replenished their blood and become plump again.
However, Hagrid's gaze lingered for a moment on the Vampire who had regained their human forms, then looked at the scattered remains on the ground. An indescribable expression appeared on his relaxed face.
In the Gori, leaning against the stone wall and observing his expression, one can sense the subtle helplessness within him.
Just like the purebred Persian cat I used to own, which grew old while I was asleep, and the servant secretly brought back a new one. The emptiness on my face when I saw that unfamiliar cat was something I tried hard to hide but could never conceal.
This guy likes bats, not people.
The Gori broke the silence with the first line. "Hi, Hagrid, good afternoon."
Hagrid then turned his gaze away from his henchmen, scratched the back of his head, and looked at the Gori: "What's going on here? What happened?"
The fingers in the Gori twitched, then he raised his hand, lifted the shirt over his chest, revealing a wound that was slowly oozing dark marks.
It was a hole that looked like it had been pierced by a sharp blade, with a ring of charred burn marks around the edges. The surrounding skin had an abnormal dark gray color, as if it had been corroded by something.
The strangest thing was that no blood flowed from the wound; only a dark red film congealed around the edges, like a layer of water that had been dried up.
Hagrid leaned closer, looking down at the wound, his brow furrowing even more deeply than before.
The voice in the Gori lowered slightly. "Someone betrayed me."
Hagrid shifted his gaze from the wound, then glanced at the severed limbs and remains on the ground before he began to seriously examine the corpses scattered around.
He crouched down and touched the nearest shriveled corpse. The corpse's skin clung tightly to the bones, like a layer of old paper wrapping a withered branch. The skin had a grayish-white sheen, and a small piece of it crumbled off at the slightest touch.
Hagrid glanced again at the Werewolf's corpse beside him. The Werewolf's limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, several claws were broken off, and large patches of coarse fur had fallen off its body, revealing the grayish-brown skin underneath.
Based on his years of experience raising Fantastic Beasts, Hagrid deduced from the density of the bones and the shape of the claw marks that the corpses contained both Vampire and Werewolf.
He looked up. "You're fighting amongst yourselves?"
Gori shook his head. "It can't be called internal strife. The Chris Clan has always been at odds with me, and now it seems they have other plans; their first step is to kill me."
Hagrid was completely confused. He scratched the back of his head. " The Chris Clan? What's that? Are they Vampire?"
He spoke with a serious expression, clearly indicating that he had never heard of the name. He mainly kept these Vampire based on their appearance and had never studied their lineage in depth. He was a practical breeder; no matter what kind of vampire they were, once they came to Hagrid, they had to be raised according to Hagrid's methods.
However, Hagrid grasped the key point: someone wanted to kill his pet.
He brandished the small umbrella, his arm creating a gust of wind, the tip of the umbrella tracing an arc in the air. "Who is it? Is it that guy named Chris? Where is he?"
As he spoke, he gestured with the small umbrella as if it were some kind of blunt weapon, not as if he intended to use it to cast a spell, but more as if he was gesturing to use the umbrella to kill the other person.
Looking at his posture in the Gori, a complicated thought crossed my mind: I felt that this person was reliable, but I also felt that he was completely out of touch with the situation.
It's probably hopeless to use him as a pawn for murder; the Gori can only be more direct. " Chris is from one of the Thirteen Vampire Clans. Their patriarch Ulric, awakened prematurely, and he has differing opinions from me. He wants to kill me, seize control of the Thirteen Clans, and become the true Vampire King."
After hearing this, Hagrid remained silent for about three seconds, scratched his head, and then asked the only question he could understand, "You mean, there's another bat as big as you?"
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly in the Gori, as if he were organizing his thoughts, but in the end he simply looked away from Hagrid's face and said nothing.
He realized that he and Hagrid were not on the same wavelength at all, and that saying anything more would be a waste of time.
If attacking Hagrid wouldn't trigger the magic Dumbledore set up within him, the Gori really wanted to teach Hagrid a lesson.
Fortunately, footsteps sounded outside again, lighter and more even than Hagrid's, like someone hurrying along but remaining vigilant, rather than rushing in recklessly like Hagrid.
Hagrid heard it too. He turned around abruptly, gripping the small umbrella in his hand again, but the tip of the umbrella still pointed towards the ground. He didn't raise it to prepare for casting a spell. Instead, he clenched his other hand into a fist, his knuckles turning white, as if he was ready to deliver a punch if anyone came with ill intentions.
The newcomer's voice came through first. "Hey, Hagrid, is everything alright here?"