Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Harry immediately realized what was happening and said, "Hagrid will definitely take Tooth with him to the Forbidden Forest, Tooth is in trouble too!"

As soon as Harry finished speaking, Sirius Black strode in, his black robes covered in dirt and leaves, and he was holding a trembling, ginger-yellow object in his arms—it was Tooth!

Hermione gasped at the sight of the hounds in such a terrible state.

Ya Ya's left hind leg was twisted at an abnormal angle, and the pads of its front paws were covered with abrasions.

"Found it next to Hagrid," Sirius's voice was terribly hoarse, his gray eyes burning with cold fury. "This little guy was guarding Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest all night."

Ron's face turned deathly pale: "Merlin, how much pain must that have caused..."

Sirius carefully adjusted his holding position, revealing his tightly clenched teeth.

Even in excruciating pain, the hound still clung tightly to half of the pink umbrella fabric.

Harry recognized it as the lining of Hagrid's umbrella, with "HR" embroidered on it in crooked thread.

"Multiple fractures, and possibly internal bleeding."

Suddenly, Ya Ya convulsed violently in Sirius's arms, letting out a mournful wail.

Hermione immediately took off her school robe and wrapped it around it: "We have to get it to Ms. Pomfrey right away!"

"It's too late."

Sirius Black turned around decisively, "I'll take it straight to St. Mungo's, where the Department of Magical Creature Injuries has the best healers."

He strode towards the door, then suddenly turned back, his long black hair billowing in the wind. "Harry—"

Harry had never seen his godfather with such a serious expression.

"Don't fall asleep tonight," Sirius said in a low voice. "Wait for me in the Gryffindor common room at midnight."

In a werewolf camp on the edge of the Scottish Highlands, campfires struggled to burn in the damp air, casting twisted and flickering shadows.

Griffin Greyback—the werewolf leader who took pleasure in biting children.

He was kneeling on one knee before a swirling mass of black mist, his filthy fingernails digging deep into the soil.

"Master," his hoarse voice held an unnatural obsequious tone, "Carlo will bring back good news tonight. Hogwarts' defenses have breached, and we can—"

The black mist suddenly surged violently, interrupting Graybuck's words.

A pale, snake-like face vaguely emerged from the mist, with no nose, only two narrow, scarlet pupils burning in the darkness.

"Fool." Voldemort's voice slithered like a venomous snake across dry bones. "I can feel... the mark is gone."

A cold sweat broke out on Graybury's muscular back. He cautiously looked up: "You mean... Carlo...?"

"Dead." A beam of green light burst forth from the black mist, shattering a nearby pine tree into charcoal. "Killed by some ancient force. Didn't even have time to scream."

The other werewolves in the camp retreated, and several of them had already bent over, showing a submissive posture.

Greyback's jaw muscles twitched, and his canines involuntarily elongated—a sign that the werewolf was about to lose control of his emotions.

He thought maliciously to himself: If you're so powerful, why don't you go in and get it yourself?

As if reading his thoughts, the black mist suddenly contracted, condensing into a clearer face.

Voldemort's red eyes stared directly at Greyback: "Are you questioning me?"

"No! Of course not!" Graybury quickly crawled even lower, his nose almost touching the ground. "I was just... just thinking about the next step."

The black mist swirled slowly, emitting a chilling hissing sound.

After a long silence, Voldemort's voice softened slightly: "Get up, Griffin. At least... you're still alive."

Graybuck stood up tremblingly, not daring to brush the dirt off his knees.

He noticed that Voldemort's form was more solidified than when they last met—clearly, the thing he had obtained earlier was of great use to the other party!

"There's something in Hogwarts," Voldemort's voice suddenly softened, like a venomous snake coiling around a neck, "a personal item I left there a long time ago...

Greyback pricked up his ears.

Moonlight pierced through the black mist, casting eerie, serpentine shadows on the ground.

"A diary," Voldemort continued, "with the Slytherin crest on the cover. It should now be in the hands of a...special student."

The werewolf leader's pupils suddenly contracted.

"You mean...the Malfoy boy?"

The black mist suddenly expanded, and Voldemort's voice carried a dangerous excitement: "Kane Malfoy? Lucius's son?"

He suddenly let out a series of chilling laughs. "Ah... the irony of fate. What I entrusted to Lucius for safekeeping has now fallen into the hands of his son..."

Greyback's brain struggled to process this information.

Something? What thing? His breathing became heavy involuntarily.

Voldemort seemed to relish his shock: "I need you to send someone in. Not a direct assault, but... an infiltration."

"But Hogwarts is heavily guarded now," Greyback hesitated.

"But I heard that Sirius Black just came out of school today carrying a dog in his arms—"

"Sirius?" The black mist suddenly solidified.

Greyback nodded, not understanding why his master was so concerned about this news.

Voldemort was silent for a moment, then suddenly burst into an even more grating laugh: "Perfect! Now Dumbledore's attention is on the Chamber of Secrets... This is our chance."

He floated up to Greyback, the mist almost brushing against the werewolf's scarred face: "Listen, Griffin. There's a secret passage in the Forbidden Forest that leads directly to the Hogwarts cellars. Fifty years ago, it was through that passage that I released the Basilisk."

Graybury's eyes lit up.

But Voldemort's next words plunged him into an icy abyss:

"But you can't use it," the black mist declared coldly. "The passage is enchanted with blood magic; only a descendant of Salazar Slytherin can open it."

The werewolf leader's fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

It's that pure-blood arrogance again!

He cursed inwardly.

But outwardly, he remained respectfully bowing his head: "So, what is your plan...?"

"I need you..."

Graybury's pupils contracted excitedly in the shadows, his dirty fingernails unconsciously digging into the calluses on his palms.

The plan emanating from the black mist sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine—it was far more perfect than he had imagined.

"Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!" The werewolf leader's voice was hoarse with excitement. He hunched over and leaned forward like a begging hyena.

"As expected of the master, even that old madman Dumbledore couldn't come up with such a scheme..."

He suddenly fell silent, realizing he had mentioned a taboo name.

But the black mist merely churned with pleasure, Voldemort clearly enjoying this crude flattery.

Greyback seized the opportunity, spittle flying everywhere, and continued, "If you ask me, if you had led the wizarding world back then—"

The black mist suddenly condensed into a semi-transparent hand, which patted Graybuck's scarred face.

This seemingly intimate gesture made the werewolf's neck hairs stand on end, and he smelled the acrid stench of his own beard being corroded.

"Go, my loyal Griffin," Voldemort's voice was laced with honeyed venom, "and remember to prepare a special gift for our...guest."

Greyback grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth, his face contorted like a centipede: "I'll make sure those little brats never forget this, Master."