Hogwarts' Golden Glory

"Did you place a listening spell on him?" Old Auror asked, his eyes never leaving the mirror.

"A weakened version of the two-way telepathic connection." Kane didn't look up, continuing to adjust the runes of the magic circle. "It can only transmit key information and sense extreme emotions. It lasts for three days, right up to the night of the full moon."

"Anything else?"

Kane finally stopped and looked at Moody: "There's one more safety net. If he tries to betray us—like going to inform on us to Greyback right now—the link will be severed immediately, triggering a powerful forgetting spell that erases all his memories of us. As a side effect, he'll be in a deep sleep for twenty-four hours, and when he wakes up, he'll only remember being injured while hunting."

Moody turned his head, his fake eye spinning wildly, while his real eye stared at Kane: "When did you cast this curse?"

"When I gave him the pill," Kane said calmly, "the outer layer of the pill was a modified sedative, and the inner layer sealed the seed of the Linking Charm. When he swallowed the pill, the seed was planted."

Old Auror remained silent for a long time. The only sounds in the room were the soft hum of the magic circle in operation and the occasional cry of a night bird outside the window.

"You know, there's a rule in the Auror office," Moody concluded, his voice carrying a strange tone, "that when carrying out high-risk missions, you must have 'insurance measures' in place for informants who might be captured or betray you. Usually it's an Oblivion Charm, sometimes... something more extreme."

Kane waited for him to continue.

“But few people can do it so cleanly and efficiently in their first real battle,” Moody continued, his gaze returning to the mirror—the mirror had returned to normal, and Tobias was safely back in his quarters. “Inconspicuous, not cruel, but effective. If he’s loyal, the link can help us; if he betrays us, the losses can be minimized. And you’ve given him a choice—he can choose not to take the pill.”

"But he chose to eat," Kane said.

"Because he was desperate, and your medicine gave him hope." Moody stood up, walked to the window, and stood next to Igor. "That's control, kid. High-level control isn't about chaining people up, it's about giving them what they want and then making them willingly wear the collar you give them."

Kane didn't deny it. He lowered his head again to adjust the magic circle: "We need to start brewing the potion as soon as possible. What about evening primrose?"

“I’ll go collect it before dawn tomorrow,” Moody said. “Now, tell me about your magic circle. Is this… an alchemy circle?”

"An improved version. It combines the advantages of traditional crucible alchemy and rune arrays." Kane pointed to the pattern on the ground. "The outer ring is a stabilization array to ensure a smooth flow of magic; the inner ring is a purification array to filter out impurities; and the center is a fusion array to achieve the optimal mixing of materials. If all goes well, the refining time can be reduced by two-thirds, and the success rate will increase by at least forty percent."

Moody stared at the complex lines of runes. Even as a seasoned old Auror, he couldn't recognize all the runes—some looked extremely ancient, while others were clearly self-created variants.

"Did Nicholas Flamel teach you this?"

"One part," Kane said. "The other part is from my own research. Traditional alchemy relies too much on materials and heat; I felt it was possible to incorporate the precision of modern enchantment theory."

“You always ‘feel’,” Moody shook his head, but there was no criticism in his tone. “Then you try it, and often you succeed. That’s dangerous—for yourself and for the people around you.”

"But it works." Kane made the final adjustment, and the magic circle glowed with a soft silver light. "Now, I need the silver powder you brought back. The higher the purity, the better."

Moody pulled a flat iron box from his pocket, opened it, and inside were fine, dust-like silver powders that shimmered faintly under the light of the magic circle. "Fairy craftsmanship, 99.9% purity. I 'confiscated' it from a black market merchant twenty years ago, and I've never been willing to use it."

Kane took the tin box, rubbed a little powder between his fingers, and examined it closely. The powder glowed faintly at his fingertips, its magical reaction pure and stable. "Perfect. With evening primrose and moonstone powder, the basic ingredients are enough."

"What else do you need?"

"I've already brought the secondary fine down from the unicorn's tail. A mild extract of dragon's blood crystals... I have a small bottle, but it might not be enough for thirty doses." Kane frowned. "If it's not enough, the effect will be diminished."

Moody thought for a moment: "Are there dragons near the camp?"

“There are no wild dragons in the Scottish Highlands, and the nearest dragon sanctuary is in Wales.” Kane shook his head. “But perhaps… there are alternatives. Ancient accounts, such as those of Nivenly, state that the tears of the Moonfox can, in certain circumstances, replace dragon blood, and are milder and more suitable for the werewolf’s fragile bloodline.”

"A Moon-obsessed Beast? That thing is even rarer than a dragon."

"But they're easier to obtain." Kane looked out the window. "On the night before the full moon, in the place where the moonlight is strongest, Moonfoxes will appear and dance. If we can find their gathering place..."

“I know a place,” Moody interrupted him. “Ten miles north, there’s a vast tundra that the locals call ‘Moonlight Dance Floor.’ Legend has it that silver creatures gather there on the eve of the full moon. But I’ve never seen one myself—the Moonfoxes are extremely timid and will disappear at the slightest sound.”

“Igor can help,” Kane said. “The aura of the phoenix can make magical creatures feel at ease. And Moonfoxes prefer pure magic, which Igor’s magic perfectly matches.”

The phoenix on the windowsill chirped softly, as if to indicate its agreement.

Moody looked at the man and the bird, and finally sighed, "Alright. Tomorrow I'll go gather evening primrose, and you go catch a Moonfox—if they really exist. But remember, we must be back here to start the refining process on the eve of the full moon; time is tight."

"Understood." Kane deactivated the magic circle, plunging the room back into darkness. "Rest now. Starting tomorrow, there won't be any time to sleep."

Moody nodded and found a relatively clean spot to lie down. He carefully placed the wooden leg beside him and held his wand in his hand—even in his sleep, the old Auror maintained a fighting stance.

Kane didn't sleep. He sat by the window, looking out at the dark forest, his fingers unconsciously stroking Igor's feathers. The phoenix nestled beside him, its silver eyes like two small lamps in the darkness.

Three days. There are three days left.

Three days later, when the full moon rises, everything will be revealed.

He will successfully incorporate the werewolf tribe and gain his first truly powerful force.

Outside the window, the wind picked up. The trees rustled, like countless people whispering.

Meanwhile, in the distant werewolf camp, Tobias was curled up on a simple bed, clutching the white essence Lupin had given him tightly in his hand, feeling a sense of peace for the first time in the early stages of his transformation.

Hope can sometimes be more frightening than fear.

Because you don't know if it will suddenly break.

But at least for now, he chooses to believe.