ITW,H - Chapter 116 - Werewolves (2) (Patreon)

For the Hummingbird chapter that was supposed to come out today, I had meant to crank it out yesterday, but then I woke up with my neck out and I had a huge headache the entire day. I was a zombie, and couldn't focus on anything. So I haven't even started that chapter yet. I'll be working on it as much as I can today. It'll be out sometime tomorrow or Monday. We'll have to see.

(Word Count: 2,095)

If Sirius and Ted were going to look into buying the place for him, then there would probably be some sort of real estate person coming out here to do a quick evaluation of the property to get a proper price. I’ll also have to write up my own findings of the place for Ted to handle the negotiations, because they’ll likely try to over-price it.

He turned to the section of the wall he had repaired and cast a Depulso to destroy it again, with a quick follow up spell to re-cover the bricks with bits of dirt, so it looked just like how it was before he got here. Didn’t want to give the real estate free property value.

Harry turned back into a crow again and flew back to Hogwarts. It was still in the middle of the week, and he had to attend classes. Though having the time turner really did make his schedule more flexible, he didn’t want to overuse it.

By the time he got back to Hogwarts, it was getting close to the end of breakfast time. He swept into the great hall, patting his clothes down from the dust of bringing the wall back down. Hermione wasn’t there—she was an early riser just like he was, and was usually done with breakfast and in the library or back in the common room at this time—but Neville and the boys were. Ginny was there as well, sitting with her own dorm mates.

He sat down with his roommates, and began filling his plate with eggs.

“Hey, guys,” Harry said cheerfully.

“Hey, mate,” Ron said around a mouthful of sausage.

“Hey, Harry,” the rest murmured tiredly.

The rest of the day passed by quickly. They had DADA in the morning, where they had to turn in an essay on the thornback spiders. Harry simply enchanted a quill and it wrote out a whole essay of a summary of what he remembered about the spider, and it was done in five minutes. It felt a little like using AI to write an essay for him, but it used his own knowledge as a base, so did that really matter?

Whatever, it was Lockhart’s class anyway, so was he even reading them? For the most part, Harry had the sense that as long as they turned something in that seemed reasonable, students would get full marks for it. It was one of the reasons students weren’t completely upset at Lockhart, despite the pitiful classes.

Then they had History of Magic in the afternoon, and they were still discussing the time period of the Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, which covered the beginning of the medieval period—marked by the fall of the Western Roman Empire—in 476 AD to 990 AD when Hogwarts was founded. They’ve been talking about that period since the term began, and they were now in the 800s.

After classes, Hermione grabbed him before he could run off again. “Wait a moment, Harry!”

“Yes, Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Where have you been running off to lately? I’ve hardly seen you after classes for the past few days. I even checked the—” She looked around and whispered “—Room of Requirement, but you weren’t there. Where have you been going off to?”

Harry gave a wry smile, “Sorry for disappearing on you, Hermione. I had only meant to, well, run off, the first day, but this kind of grew into a bigger project than I thought it would. I’ll explain.”

He told Hermione about his quests, though he didn’t use that term, from Magic to deal with the acromantulas and help with the centaurs. Then explained the werewolf conflicts and his plan to help them. “I’m actually going there right now to talk to them. It shouldn’t take too long, since I don’t actually have the castle yet, or have it fixed up enough to keep them there. I’ll just talk to them briefly, and I’ll be back in no more than an hour or two.”

“You've been handling all of this by yourself?” She asked.

“No, I just contacted Sirius for some help. They're going to handle securing the castle and suitcase. Really, all I have to do is get the werewolves on board,” Harry explained.

“I see. Can I come with you?” Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, “I appreciate it, but I'll have to go get the centaurs to show me the way to the werewolf camp, and I'm not sure if they'd want another human visiting their home at the moment. They're a bit testy as is.”

Hermione pouted, before sighing. “Alright, then. Just be safe, okay?” She said, her eyes full of concern.

Harry smiled warmly, “I promise. I'll be perfectly safe.”

Before Harry left for the werewolves, he was willing to bet they were hungry, so he stopped by the kitchens and picked up another chicken casserole dish, and enchanted it with preservation and refilling, the same as he did when he gifted the dish to the centaurs.

Harry left the school grounds once more and, when he was sure he was out of sight, transformed into a crow. This time he flew much closer to the centaurs’ glade before transforming back. He approached on foot, and soon he spotted a centaur, who ran off to fetch someone.

He paused where he was to wait.

Moments later, Firenze, Bane, and Brontes trotted over.

“Mr. Potter, I'm glad you've arrived. Are you ready to talk to the werewolves?” Firenze asked.

“Yes, I believe I've worked out a suitable plan for everyone. Let me explain,” Harry said, and, for the third time today, explained his plans moving forward, making sure to emphasize that with the suitcase, even if he couldn't get the castle fixed up in time, the werewolves would not be a threat to them on the full moon.

Firenze sighed in relief. “That is wonderful news, Mr. Potter.”

Bane merely scowled. “Suitcase or not, such dark creatures are not welcome in our forest. Get them out of here as soon as possible.”

Brontes said nothing, though his expression was less hostile than Bane’s and far less hopeful than Firenze’s. He seemed to be in the middle ground.

“I'm working on it as quickly as we can. I'm already in the process of acquiring both the castle and the suitcase, so it shouldn't take too long,” Harry said to Bane.

He simply nodded, “Brontes will lead you to the werewolf camp.” Then he left back toward the glade.

Firenze gave Harry a comforting smile. “If you truly manage to get that suitcase, then perhaps I can convince Magorian that we don’t need to fight them before the full moon.”

“The estate sale is in four days, so if you could delay the attack until then? I should also have confirmation on the Rookwood castle by then as well. Hopefully we can buy it quickly,” Harry said.

“I hope your plans succeed. I will convince them to delay our attack until then, even Bane should be willing to wait at least,” Firenze said. He nodded to Brontes, and left them.

Harry looked to Brontes, “Let’s go then. No time to waste.”

Brontes led Harry deeper into the forest. Together they walked for about two hours before Harry spotted some people up ahead. As they got closer, Harry could see that the werewolf camp was exactly as he expected.

Well, not that he really knew what to expect. He had never been to a group of werewolves' camp before. His only exposure to werewolves was Remus, outside of Greyback’s group in canon. But from the way the centaurs described them, he had expected  them to be more in line with Remus than Greyback, and they were.

By that, he meant they looked to be desperate people struggling to make the best of their situation, despite being homeless in the woods, instead of grungy dark wizards hiding away in the woods.

The camp was set up under a bunch of thick pine trees, with the branches helping block out the sky and offering some protection from any rain. Several large canvas sheets were tied between the trees to act as makeshift tents, though most of them were sagging in the middle and looked like they would collapse if it rained too hard. There were also a few actual tents mixed in, but they were all old and patched up with different colored fabrics.

Near the middle of the camp was a small fire with a black cauldron hanging over it. The smell coming from it was not bad, but it was very thin. Some sort of vegetable stew, Harry guessed. There was no meat in it, and judging by the grim look the person stirring it had, there probably was not much food in it either.

Looked like he was right to bring the casserole. 

There were people all around the camp. There was a woman sewing up a tear in a little boy’s coat. A pair of men were talking quietly in a language Harry recognized as Polish. One thing he noted sadly was that there were far more children than he had thought there would be, with mothers or fathers nearby. A girl around Harry’s age was sitting against a tree reading a book in French, with a younger boy curled up beside her.

All of them have various scars on them, including on their faces. Probably from their transformations and their own claws. When a werewolf is penned in a cage or trapped in something similar, they tend to go mad and end up clawing themselves. Most werewolves have to lock themselves in a room or in a cage because they don't have a better solution, so most werewolves end up with similar scars.

Harry could hear some of the thoughts from the group of people.

‘Merde. Is this really all the food we have left?’ The thin man stirring the pot thought grimly in French.

‘Those centaurs will come back soon, I'm sure of it. What are we going to do? Can we really fight them off?’ Another thin man sat just outside one of the tents worried.

‘Lupin does not even know we are here. What am I doing?’ Another thought in despair.

‘We should have stayed in France.’ A mother thought regretfully as she looked to her children.

His stomach twisted at the sight.

Brontes stopped a little ways away from the nearest tent. He did not have his bow in his hands, but it was still slung over his shoulder. He looked tense, looking between the people like he expected someone to attack at any moment.

A woman near the fire noticed them first.

She stood up sharply, and the makeshift log chair toppled to the ground. She looked to be around Remus’s age, perhaps a little older. Her dark hair was tied back in a messy braid, and she had a long scar going down the side of her face from the corner of her mouth to beneath her jaw. Her robes were dirty and patched, but they had clearly once been good travelling robes.

“Centaurs!” she called out in English. Her accent was French.

The campers all panicked. Several people reached for their wands. Others immediately moved in front of the children. No one attacked, but they were ready to.

When they panicked, Brontes had immediately readied his bow in one smooth motion, though he kept the arrow pointed down.

The atmosphere was tense, either side ready to attack at the first prompting. Then they noticed Harry.

“A child?” one of them said, looking at him suspiciously.

Harry stepped forward between the centaur and werewolves before Brontes could say anything, then spoke to Brontes. "I can handle things from here, Brontes. Thank you for leading the way. You should head back now.”

Without keeping his eyes off of the werewolves, the centaur responded. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'll be fine. You can return to your glade,” Harry said.

Brontes nodded, “Alright then. Be careful with them, you never know what might happen with these dark creatures.” 

He backed away slowly, never taking his eyes from the camp. Once he had put enough distance between himself and the tents, he turned and galloped back through the trees.

Harry watched him go for a moment before turning back. Every person in the camp was looking at him warily. The air was less tense now that Brontes had gone, but no one had lowered their guard.

Harry gave them a small wave. “Hello there!”