"A potion?"
Midgard thought for a moment, then nodded. "That makes sense."
"It makes sense, but it won't be easy to pull off." Leonard sighed. "It would've been one thing if Damocles hadn't betrayed us, but now we don't have a potions master worth relying on. Progress is going to be slow, isn't it?"
Potions masters were never common. There was always one person for one position.
With Damocles dead, the werewolf wizards' reputation among potioneers had completely rotted. Recruiting a master potioneer to help them was out of the question.
At the moment, the werewolf settlement only had a few potion makers from among the werewolf wizards themselves, plus a handful of dark wizards in Knockturn Alley who were attached to the werewolves and happened to be skilled at potions.
Leonard didn't think it was very realistic to expect them to research and develop a brand-new potion from scratch.
"So what if Damocles were still here? That bastard would've betrayed us sooner or later. Keeping him around would only have made the losses worse." Midgard shook his head. "You don't need to worry about the Potions Master issue."
"What? You already have someone in mind?"
"Don't forget, the wolf cubs have been learning this whole time." Midgard sounded proud. "Their experience may not compare to Damocles', but when it comes to the Wolfsbane Potion, they don't have any less experience than he did. Some of them are genuinely talented, too."
"And talent alone is enough?"
"They went through Damocles' first two potion upgrades. The third one shouldn't be a problem." Midgard shrugged. "We'll take it slowly. This upgrade isn't really essential yet."
After the second upgrade, the Wolfsbane Potion already allowed Werewolves to transform into werewolf form of their own free will. A further improved version might completely solve the Werewolves' contagious Curse, but it was not an urgent necessity.
It was a bit like nuclear fusion technology before Leonard traveled through time.
It was a source of clean nuclear energy, so of course it was important. Extremely important. But if you used fusion technology to make nuclear weapons without nuclear contamination... that was possible, but unnecessary.
If you used nuclear weapons with no fallout, other people wouldn't care. They'd still use fission weapons however they wanted. There was no such thing as chivalry in war.
The Werewolves' Curse was somewhat similar. Was solving it important? Of course. It was a crucial step toward getting wizards to accept Werewolves.
But it would also erase the Werewolves' most intimidating ability. At a time when the situation was still unstable, rushing to eliminate the Werewolves' Curse wouldn't bring any real practical benefit.
"Then we'll take it slow. But..." Leonard glanced at the giant wolf leader, whose limbs were trembling, whose face was bruised and swollen, and whose terrified eyes made it clear he didn't dare come any closer.
"Take them with you. There's no benefit to keeping them here. Let them do some actual work once they're out there. You could bring them along on the trip to Germany this time."
These giant wolves were no weaklings. Their magic was on par with that of ordinary wizards, and their resistance to magic went without saying. As a species that had evolved from Werewolves, their magic resistance was even higher than that of Werewolves, and their physical strength far surpassed that of ordinary Werewolves.
With their help, the werewolf wizards' strength could rise another step.
But after thinking it over, Midgard rejected Leonard's suggestion.
"I don't need extra hands for now. On the contrary, having a pack of giant wolves around the outer perimeter of your Botanical Garden would make this place safer."
"Safer? I'm worried these little bastards will rob the place they're supposed to guard." Leonard shook his head. "Just send them out. Use Aconite berries as bait and make them work for you. I don't need them here."
Compared with ordinary wizards, these giant wolves were fairly strong. Compared with Leonard's plants and animals, though, they really didn't amount to much.
"Scouts and warriors are two different things," Midgard insisted. "Didn't you say someone at Hogwarts has their eye on you? Wouldn't it be good to have a pack of giant wolves keeping watch over the Forbidden Forest for you?"
Leonard shook his head. "There's no need. They can't really help me much."
"Fine, then. I'll go 'talk' to them and have them leave with me." Midgard finally relented.
Looking at Midgard's smiling face and aggressive posture, Leonard silently observed three minutes of mourning for those giant wolves.
...
The wolf pack in the Forbidden Forest was bundled up and taken away by Midgard.
Being forced to leave home was painful, but even more painful was getting the life beaten out of you by someone you couldn't defeat.
The giant wolves simply couldn't endure Midgard's vicious beating, so they could only "willingly" and "happily" follow him out of the Forbidden Forest.
Their departure had no effect on the Forbidden Forest at all. In late autumn, the forest had been dyed gold by falling leaves.
Halloween was almost here.
In the library, Leonard sat alone as he closed Illustrated Guide to Dangerous Plants of Europe and looked up at the laughter and lively chatter around him.
Tomorrow was Halloween, and by tradition, tonight was the Halloween banquet.
Leonard got to his feet and left the library. The first thing he saw was a huge splash of blood.
Well, not blood exactly. Just red paint smeared all over the walls.
With the help of the professors and other school staff, the castle had already been fully decorated. Live spiders and decorative webs filled the corners of the walls, while floating jack-o'-lanterns let out piercing screams as they bobbed over the students' heads.
Even the fountain in the middle of the hall had been dyed blood red, and the original merpeople statue had been turned into a vicious-looking fish monster.
Seeing all those decorations, Leonard's expression relaxed.
This year's Halloween banquet would probably be the most peaceful one yet, right?
In the normal storyline, Hogwarts' Halloween banquets had never been peaceful after Harry Potter enrolled.
A troll in first year, the Basilisk petrification incident in second year, Sirius Black breaking into Hogwarts at night in third year... one disaster after another.
But this year's Basilisk incident had already been cut off at the root by Leonard.
Tom Riddle's diary, the Money King's, had fallen into Leonard's hands ahead of time. No one had opened the Chamber of Secrets, so the Basilisk couldn't come out, and that meant no one would be hurt by it.
There was still a suicidal Defense Against the Dark Arts professor trying to explore the Chamber of Secrets, but Harris Raymond was not a Parseltongue. That special ability, inherited through bloodline, only appeared in Slytherin's descendants. The sole exception was Harry Potter, who carried a fragment of Voldemort's soul.
Harris Raymond could not open the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.
Everything was fine. He could finally enjoy the Halloween banquet in peace.
But... even though the source of danger had already been removed, why did he still have such an ominous feeling?
Standing in the crowded hall, Leonard watched the students laughing, chatting, and playing around, and couldn't help rubbing his chin.
Had he overlooked something?