Hogwarts' Golden Glory

"Master...save me..." He reached out his hand, pleading with Voldemort for help.

But Voldemort had no time to spare—because at the moment when the moonlight was at its brightest, Kane activated the array's second function.

"Moonlight Purification, Full Power!"

The runic array on the ground burst forth with unprecedented light.

That wasn't an attack, but pure, concentrated moonlight magic. This magic was harmless to ordinary wizards, but harmful to dark magic, dark creatures, and those with vampire bloodlines…

It is highly poisonous.

The dark magic surrounding Voldemort began to dissipate, like snow meeting the sun. The prelude to his dark magic was forcibly interrupted, even backfiring on him.

"Damn it..." Voldemort showed a strained expression for the first time. His remnant soul state could not withstand this level of purification power for long.

And things were even worse at Graybury.

Bathed in moonlight, his vampire bloodline was completely suppressed, while his werewolf bloodline was overstimulated. The balance between the two forces was broken, and the conflict reached its peak.

His body began to... disintegrate.

It wasn't an explosion, but rather like a sand sculpture being blown away by the wind, turning to ashes starting from the edges.

"No...no! Master! You said I would be perfect! You said—!"

Greyback's final wails faded into the night wind.

When the moonlight dimmed, only a human-shaped ash outline remained, along with a dark red, still slightly beating heart—the core remnant of the vampire bloodline.

Voldemort looked at the heart, then at Kane, his crimson eyes flashing with complex emotions: anger, resentment, but more than anything... a cold calculation after a reassessment.

"You've won this round, Kane Malfoy."

His voice became ethereal, and his body began to turn transparent—the moonlight purification had caused substantial damage to his remnant soul, and he had to retreat. "But the game has only just begun. Remember—your father is still in my hands, and so is your brother. If you think tonight's victory is the end, you're being naive."

He transformed into a wisp of black smoke, swirling up the remaining heart of Graybuck, and vanished into the night sky in an instant.

The battle ended abruptly.

In the center of the camp, the surviving werewolves stared blankly at everything.

Kane knelt on one knee, panting heavily. Igor flew wearily back onto his shoulder and closed his eyes. Moody limped over and patted him on the shoulder.

"Well done, kid." Old Auror's voice carried a rare hint of approval. "Although the methods were a bit risky, well done."

Lupin approached with Tobias and the other werewolves. The gray-haired werewolf professor looked at Kane, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "You saved many lives. But... what happened after that?"

Kane raised his head and looked around—the rescued werewolves, the werewolves who had fallen to him, and the werewolves who were still in fear and confusion.

Under the moonlight, he slowly stood up, his voice echoing throughout the camp:

"Now, let's talk about the future."

Greyback's ashes drifted in the morning breeze. The crimson heart had been taken by Voldemort, but the remaining vampire bloodline contamination had been completely dispelled by the moonlight, leaving only charred remains.

In the center of the camp, the surviving werewolves stood blankly. Some remained in wolf form, while others had reverted to human form. Tobias, Ella, and a few other werewolves who had drunk Kane's potion were the only ones who remained conscious during the transformation and were able to revert to human form on their own.

Moody, leaning on his cane, scanned the camp with his prosthetic eye, making sure there were no traps or spies left by Voldemort. Lupin walked over to Kane and whispered, "We need to deal with this quickly. It's almost dawn, and a Ministry of Magic patrol might pass through the area."

Kane nodded, but his gaze fell on the rescued prisoners—about twenty or so, mostly the elderly, women, and children, who were now huddled together weeping or sitting blankly. Further away were more than thirty werewolves who had turned to him, and more than twenty of Greyback's loyalists—most of the latter were weakened by the blood conflict, some even unconscious.

In total, the camp originally had more than eighty adult werewolves. Now, eleven are dead (including Greyback and several others who died in the melee), and of the remaining nearly seventy, less than fifty are still capable of fighting.

According to Lupin's previous estimates, there are at least two hundred registered werewolves in the British wizarding community, and three to four times that number of unregistered werewolves hiding on the fringes of Muggle society.

Most of these people were followers of Griffin.

"Gather everyone," Kane said to Lupin. "We need to get this straight."

Lupin nodded, then turned and summoned the group with a deep, werewolf growl. Soon, all the werewolves who were still conscious gathered in the center of the open space—those standing were those who had sided with Kane, those sitting or lying down were Greyback's followers, and the rescued prisoners were gathered on the other side.

Kane walked up to the platform. Dawn was breaking, the eastern sky was turning a pale white, and the moonlight was fading. He still looked like a thirteen-year-old boy, but at this moment, no one dared to underestimate him.

"First," Kane began, his voice exceptionally clear in the silence, "Greybor is dead. Voldemort has escaped. This camp no longer belongs to anyone but yourselves."

A commotion broke out. Some breathed a sigh of relief, some showed fear, and many more were bewildered.

"Secondly," Kane continued, "the improved wolfsbane potion I promised will be provided to every one of you. Not just those who drank it tonight, but everyone here—including those who once stood with Greyback."

This statement provoked an even bigger reaction. A werewolf lying on the ground struggled to lift his head. He was one of Graybury's loyal followers and was called "Crackclaw" because his right hand was born deformed and resembled a cracked claw.

"Why...why?" Crack Claw asked hoarsely, "We were trying to kill you just now."

"Because you had no choice." Kane stepped down from the platform, knelt down in front of Crackclaw, and said, "Greyborough ruled with fear, and Voldemort lured you with false hope. In that environment, your choices were very limited."

He took a test tube from his pouch—not a modified wolfsbane potion, but a healing potion—and handed it to Crackclaw: "Drink it. Your bloodline conflict needs to be resolved."

Crack Claw hesitated for a long time before finally taking the test tube and drinking it. The medicine took effect quickly, and the painful expression on his face visibly eased.

"But I have conditions." Kane stood up, looking around at everyone. "First, from now on, werewolves must not attack humans without cause. Hunting is only for wild beasts, not intelligent beings. Second, you need to learn to control yourselves—not just on the night of the full moon, but also in ordinary times. Werewolf power should not be used to bully the weak. Third, you need to establish your own order, instead of continuing to live in chaos."