Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Tobias swallowed hard. "They'll kill me..."

“No.” Kane took a small silver amulet from his bag and handed it to the werewolf. “Wear this. If you’re in mortal danger, crush it. Ig will sense it, and I’ll know your location. And…” He looked at Moody, “we’ll create chaos outside to draw attention.”

Moody frowned: "You're going to launch a full-scale attack?"

"It's not a full-scale attack, it's a performance." Kane stood up. "On the night of the full moon, the entire werewolf tribe gathers in the open space in the center of their camp, preparing to transform collectively. That's their most vulnerable moment—anxiety before transformation, madness afterward. If, at that moment, a stranger appears with a way to break their thousand-year curse… what do you think they will choose?"

"It might tear you apart," Moody said bluntly.

“If it were just me alone, yes,” Kane nodded. “So we need to prepare. First, the improved potion must be perfect, and its effects must be immediate. Second, we need to demonstrate strength—not offensive, but protective. Prove that we are capable of protecting those willing to change in the face of Greyback and his loyalists. Third…”

He looked north, at the mountains behind the curtain of rain.

"Third, we need to deal with that man in black. Before anything else begins."

Moody's prosthetic eye stopped rotating. "Assassination."

"Or banish him," Kane said. "It depends on his state. If he's the complete Voldemort, we can't kill him—at least not now. But if he's some kind of remnant or possessed state... we can severely injure him, temporarily rendering him unable to move."

"Do you know how dangerous that is?"

"I know," Kane said. "That's why I need your help. Not to protect me, but to provide intelligence, experience, and... a decisive blow if necessary."

Moody fell silent. The rain intensified, and darkness descended completely. Tobias began to shiver, whether from the cold or fear, it was hard to tell.

"Three days," Moody finally said. "There are still three days until the full moon. How confident are you that you'll have the potion ready?"

"The improved version is already in place, but mass production requires materials and time." Kane pondered for a moment. "We'll start refining tonight. If all goes well, we can produce thirty doses before the full moon. Not enough to distribute to everyone, but enough to demonstrate and win over the first batch of supporters."

"What about the materials?"

"I brought the basic materials, but I also need fresh evening primroses—they must be picked the night before the full moon for the best results. And silver powder, which needs to be of high purity."

"There are some evening primroses near the campsite, I can go and collect them," Moody said. "Silver dust... I have some in stock, in the safe house."

Tobias timidly raised his hand: "I...I can help. I know where evening primroses grow the most, and there's some silverware in the camp warehouse, confiscated by Graybury as 'spoils of war,' I can steal some..."

Kane and Moody exchanged a glance.

"The risk is very high," Moody's said.

“But it’s worth it.” Kane nodded, then looked at Tobias. “Can you do it? Without being detected?”

The werewolf took a deep breath and straightened his back—a simple movement that made him wince in pain, but he persisted. "I can. I know the warehouse shift changes, and I know how to avoid the patrols. And… I want to do something. For myself, and for those like me."

"That's settled then," Kane said. "Tobias, go back to camp, gather information, and steal silverware if necessary. Moody, go gather evening primrose to prepare silver powder, and keep watch on the perimeter. I'll brew potions in the safe house, and Igor will be in charge of vigilance and communications."

"Where is the safe house?" Moody asked.

"Five miles east, there's an abandoned hunting lodge that's not marked on the map." Moody pulled a hand-drawn map from his pocket and pointed it out to Kane. "It was a temporary base I built twenty years ago when I was tracking Greyback. It has basic protection and concealment spells. It should still be usable."

"Very good." Kane took the map, quickly memorized the location, and said, "We'll split up. Meet me in the open area in the center of the camp three days from now at midnight."

The werewolf struggled to his feet and bowed deeply to Kane: "Thank you, little wizard. It's been a long... a very long time since I've been this lucid during my transformation. If you can really help us..."

He paused. "There's a gap in the fence on the east side of the camp. The night watchman there is a werewolf named 'Greymane.' He's... a little different. Sometimes he secretly lets people who want to escape go. Maybe he'll help you."

"What do you think?" Moody finally asked.

“He was telling the truth,” Kane said. “At least most of it. His heart skipped a beat when he mentioned Greymane—not fear, but some kind of…hope.”

Moody turned his head, his true eye fixed on Kane: "You know who 'Greymane' is, right?"

"Remus Lupin," Kane said calmly, "the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts, a werewolf, an undercover agent sent by Dumbledore. How long has he been there?"

Moody didn't answer immediately. He took out his flask and took a sip; rainwater flowed into the flask, but he didn't care.

"Three months. Dumbledore wanted to know what Voldemort's followers were doing in the werewolf tribe, and Lupin volunteered. He was the most suitable candidate—he was a werewolf himself, had a reason to join the tribe, and…" Moody paused, "he needed to atone for his sins."

"What sins are you atoning for?"

"He believed that as a werewolf, he was born with original sin," Moody said bluntly. "Dumbledore gave him a job and respect, but he always felt it wasn't enough. So he went, risking he might never come back."

Kane nodded. This matched his understanding of Lupin—a gentle, kind man who was always punishing himself.

"We need to contact him," Kane said. "To work together from the inside and outside."

"It's not that simple," Moody shook his head. "The werewolves in the camp are all controlled by Greyback with fear and drugs. Lupin is already doing a great job of protecting himself; asking him to assist us is too risky. If exposed, he'll die a horrible death—werewolfs never show mercy to traitors."

"So we can't let him expose himself," Kane said. "We need to make it look like he was forced, or... completely unaware."

Moody stared at him: "You have a plan."

"It's taking shape." Kane gazed north, the mountain ranges faintly visible behind the rain. "But we need more information. How many werewolves are in the camp? What are the guards' shift schedules? Greyback's routine? What's the black-robed man's activity pattern?"

Moody pulled a notebook wrapped in oilcloth from his cloak and tossed it to Kane. "This is what I've collected. It's not complete, but it should be enough for you to make a plan."