68 Summer of the Wolf: The Iron Heaven

It is difficult to find a forest that was left untouched by human hands. True virgin forests were as rare as Dragons – True Dragons that is, not Wyverns, who stole their name to intimidate other beasts.

Where a man come through, a scar remains, whether they want it or not. It could be a footprint that scared away a fox, a cigarette butt, some coal from an extinguished firepit, a pile of garbage that some idiots left behind, a broken tree brunch... There were so many scars.

But it could have been different. People could be one with nature, they just had to learn to truly be a part of it.

The forest, which is listed as a protected one in Ireland, managed to get boring for two travelers on the second day of their journey. It was almost no different from dozens of other forests and reserves. It seemed that you could turn around and see a familiar place, but these were tricks of nature that only beginners fell for.

It was precisely for such begginers that the roads were trodden here. Narrow paths on bare ground that can hardly be walked by one person. But this didn't stop a handful of small animals from following their companions on their heels.

"Explain to me again why we couldn't just apparate to the werewolf camp? Something about a high magical background?" The taller one asked, stopping for a moment and spreading his arms to the side.

His dark cloak hung from his dark body like a bag, fluttering in the wind, occasionally showing the world the black skin of a teenager. "So why can't I see even a bit of fucking magic around?!"

The man, who was dressed appropriately for the weather, shook his head. His jacket, darned and sewn dozens of times, made from the wool of a magical beast of an unknown breed, hung faithfully on his shoulders for what seemed like a dozen years already. He preferred to wear time-tested clothes, ones that wouldn't fail at the wrong time.

The teenager on the other hand seemed to have developed a love for the clothing of the wizarding world; the robes perfectly hid his true appearance.

Danil and Remus went on a trip immediately after the start of Summer Holidays. The werewolf contacted some of his friends in advance and asked permission to visit their abode. Oddly enough, they agreed almost immediately when they found out that Danil was also affected by some curse.

Although, perhaps this was to be expected. Damned to be drawn to their own kind like magnets, after all.

"That's why Silver's pack chose this forest as their home. You may not feel it, but there's a lot of magic around us, it's just that it hides quite skillfully from strangers."

If there were eyebrows on Danil's bald skull, they would have crawled up from shock. In his memory, he had not seen or heard of magic hiding from anything. Yes, there were some cunning stealth charms and even magic that could erase everyone's memories of a certain place...

But it was magic that was made so using long words and powerful wands. People directed it, gave it this shape, colors and properties. How could magic – without a direction, without a user – hide?

He asked just that.

"For a long time, this forest was a reserve, maybe you know that. But who and when declared it such, no one knows, but one fact remains: for hundreds of years, people have been coming here either with the permission of the Queen, or they were wizards like me and you." Remus said in the same voice he used to lecture at Hogwarts.

"Basically, only those who wanted with all their hearts to preserve the pristine appearance of the forest and only enjoy its beauty walked here. They didn't want to intrude, they wanted to look."

Remus fell silent, allowing Danil to think about his words and draw a conclusion. Most often, this is how his student came to the right thoughts and answers to his own questions. And a minute later, Danil spoke instead of his teacher.

"Are you saying that the ambient magic was formed by the desires of people? Even if this forest was visited by hundreds of wizards, I can hardly believe that. The forest is too large to be influenced without the necessary intentions. And muggles, and there was a lot more of the here, can't use magic," because if just about anyone could use magic, he thought, the Wanderer wouldn't turn his nature inside out.

'He would still do that, just to see what would happen in the end. Ephemeral fucker.'

"Of course they can't, but they can influence the path of development of background magic. Many old buildings that have not changed their purpose for centuries also acquire some kind of ambient magical presence. Have you ever felt..." Remus was lost for a moment, looking for the right one word. "Grace? Yes, grace, in churches, maybe at Stonehenge?"

It was noticeable that Remus found this topic more difficult to discuss than DADA. He seemed embarrassed by the very fact that he had once been in a church.

"Happened a couple of times." Danil didn't argue. "One day, my grandfather and sister took me out of home on a trip around the country. I remember we visited a cathedral built right into the wall of a mountain – the Reds did not dare touch it. When I walked inside, it was as if I had entered a territory full of ancient power, where the weak break down under pressure. It is said that this cathedral was often used as a shelter during enemy raids."

At this point the conversation died down. Remus still remembered what the boy in the monster's body had said about his family. And Danil was simply lost in his thoughts. Was background magic the reason why old families valued their Manors so much? Maybe because of magic, many Ministries didn't change their main buildings for the same reasons.

"For the life of me, I can't remember the name of that cathedral." Danil muttered.

"Maybe I can help?" Someone's helpful voice asked from the side. It appeared so unexpectedly that Danil immediately teleported onto a tree, and Remus bent down and pulled his wand out of his sleeve. But in the next second, he lowered it with a tired sigh, seeing who exactly appeared on his way.

"Kendrick, why do you feel the need to scare me every time I come back?" Remus asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his palm.

Kendrick looked like a middle-aged man, worn out by life of stress. And he was, if you didn't look closely. And there was something to see.

Even in the bitter cold, he wore only long pants made of coarse fabric and a thin long-sleeved jacket with a Freddie Mercury print on it. There were no shoes on his feet.

But what was so wrong with him? There are enough madmen everywhere, even in the best cities in the world they exist on each corner. But this one was in his prime, judging by the tight muscles hiding under his dry skin.

"Remus, who's that dick?!" Danil shouted from the tree, clutching a long staff made of dark oak. Where he got it from was known only to the Wanderer himself.

"Get off of there, you fool! This is Kendrick, our guide!" Remus shouted back.

Without thinking twice, Danil disappeared from the tree and appeared on the ground from a bunch of purple sparks.

Kendrick looked at the two and a half meters of pure monstrocity with interest and some respect, although the boy couldn't know where the latter would come from.

"I believe this is the child you wrote to us about, Lupin." The man drawled thoughtfully. "Well, let's not waste any more time, follow me."

Without saying another word, the man turned around and walked somewhere away from the road, Remus followed him without hesitation, and Danil tagged along.

"I repeat the question," said Danil, "who's that dick?"

Remus sighed.

"He's in charge of patrolling the area. Not that he's needed here, but it's better to be on the safe side of things."

Danil hummed. "He's the local Hagrid?"

"To some extent, yes."

Not a word was spoken further on the road. The three walked through the thickening bowl of the forest, where with every step there seemed to be a dozen more trees. Danil almost broke his legs when he tripped over a root, but there were no other incidents. The forest still seemed normal.

Remus looked around every now and then with slight misunderstanding, but he did not dare to break the silence. An hour later, Kendrick stopped, letting the guests forward with his arm outstretched.

"Welcome to the Iron Haven." He said gloomily.

A seemingly ordinary hilly area opened up before them. But you just had to look closely and you could see doors hidden in the sides of these very mounds. A couple of trees spread their branches here and there, making the doors even more difficult to spot.

Several people were visible gathered around the firepit, from which not even a hint of smoke emanated.

"What the..." Remus muttered.

This haven did not make a grandiose impression. It seemed that not people lived here, but fighters hiding from enemy eyes and artillery shelling. Danil wasn't one to judge a book by its cover, but it seemed that the place was shit.

"Have you moved? The place was completely different before." Remus asked, puzzled.

"We've been moving every month lately." At Remus's pointed look, Kendrick just shook his head. "Only Silver can tell you the rest. Only he has the right to do so."

Remus nodded in understanding, but Danil didn't like these words. The dugouts built around began to resemble protective dugouts that a friend from the Internet, who served on the border, had told him about. The boy wouldn't have been surprised if someone had told him that there were also fox holes here.

The inhabitants of the Heaven cast fleeting glances at the guests, lingering on Danil's figure only a moment longer than on the others. Only children and teenagers pointed their fingers in their direction and whispered something among themselves.

"You're lucky Silver is home right now." Kendrick said.

"He is already one hundred and seventy years old, a decent age for a werewolf. Where else could he be?" Remus asked with a chuckle.

"Old age begins not when your hair turns white, but when your soul gets tired. Silver is the living proof of this saying." Kendrick responded wisely, opening the door to the dugout, which looked slightly larger than the others.

"Sounds like a quote." Danil said, bending almost in half to go inside. "Who's author?"

"An ancient Sumerian Magician named Creole." Came a strong, bass that definitely didn't belong to Kendrick.

The underground shelter was surprisingly comfortable, most likely because the inside was three times larger than the outside. And it stopped looking like a dugout. Rather, it looked as if Danil had entered the living room of an old English Lord. Maybe because in fact it was the living room of an old English Lord.

The werewolf named Silver was waiting for guests, sitting in a chair opposite the fireplace. And for being one hundred and seventy, he didn't look that old at all. The long silver hair that adorned his head made it clear where he got his nickname from. And even from behind it was difficult to call him old; he did not an aura of an old man.

"Remus, long time no see, glad to know you haven't forgotten your teacher." He didn't even turn around to look at the arrivals. Only when the door closed did Silver get up from his chair and look at Danil. Bright, violet eyes hidden behind goggles met the orange eyes of the wolf, in which vertical pupils gaped.

"I've only heard about you, cursed child. But I think something good will come out of you if Mooney lets me teach."

Silver didn't act like an old man, dejected by the experience of many years of life. In front of the guests stood a man who believed that he would live forever, or at least live hundreds more years. Broad, strong shoulders, thick arms and legs, shaped like that by countless battles, and a face marred by a long pair of scars.

But something completely different caught Danil's eye. He had seen this face before.

"Geralt of Rivia?" He muttered in shock.

"Who?" Silver asked in confusion. "We don't have anyone going by that name, and never had. You're thinking about someone else."

Rising from his chair, 'Geralt' began to stretch his stiff shoulders. "You couldn't have picked a worse time to come herr. Well, or not really, depending on which side of the shit pie you have."

"Silver, what's going on? Is the pack in danger?" Remus asked.

"The pack is always in danger." Silver chuckled. "The Ministry of Magic, Hit-Wizards, vampires... There is enough danger for everyone, and even more remains. Every year we bury one of our own, but this time we buried more than it was worth."

Danil looked closely at the leader of the pack. His calm words were in no way shown with the rage that he tried to hide in his movements. The man had been living under stress for several weeks; the bags under his eyes confirmed that.

"Silver–"

"Ten months ago, on the night of the full moon," Silver began to tell, "when we went into the forests to transform, someone attacked us. Those who decided to lock themselves in their homes and wait out the night, are dead. Everyone who was nearby the camp are dead too."

Silver's voice didn't tremble. He was calm. As calm, as one could ever be. It felt like he had already told this story a hundred times and was ready to tell it just as many more.

"Now, I take people from place to place, we try to hide in the forest, we call for it's protection, but every time these fuckers find us. Every time someone dies."

A heavy fist landed on the table that stood in the middle of the room.

"Then why the hell did you agree to have us here?! I brought a student here, Silver, a teenager!" Remus exploded, hissing at the leader with anger in his voice. Danil recoiled; he had never heard Remus raise his voice at anyone before.

"The next full moon is a little less than a month away. I will have more than enough time to teach him a lot, and then you both will go back to your homes." He was given a calm answer. "And we also have children here, we evacuate them first. Or do you think I have already fallen into insanity?"

"That would be far too easy to believe..."

Silver's words didn't do much to calm Remus. Somewhere near the shelter, a creature was wandering, capable of killing a turned werewolf. Such creatures were a significant object of concern.

"Sounds good to me." Danil finally intervened in the conversation. "Can you tell us more about the attacks of these creatures? Maybe someone saw them?"

And Silver continued to talk.

The first time, when no one was expecting an attack, the pack was twice as large. Some new converts and elders, fearing for their safety or simply not wanting to be in the way, chose to stay home. It wasn't something unusual, people had previously chosen to stay in their homes – at that time made of wood – no one could say anything against it.

This choice was their last.

When Silver's group returned to the camp, not a single house remained intact. In their places there were now craters.

"I don't know what they used to blow them up, but the explosion broke the spell of invisible expansion." The werewolf explained. "Otherwise, they would have remained standing. We would have heard explosions of such power from a mile away. Unless they used some Muggle shit, I couldn't find any other explanation."

The bodies of those who managed to escape from their homes were mutilated. They were torn to pieces and pierced with arrows, as if a simple death was not enough for the invisible enemy. There were no survivors.

"Actually, there was one boy..." Kendrick said thoughtfully. "Billy, seven years old. I can't remember his last name..."

"Brown." Silver muttered. "Billy Brown."

"He's the one. When we found him, he was bleeding, he kept talking some kind of nonsense about hissing monsters. We didn't have enough time to save him."

For several minutes everyone was silent, the death of a child, even of the one you had never seen, was terrible. But now everyone was thinking about something of their own, because that was already a passed stage. The boy was buried and mourned. It was impossible to help him anymore.

And Danil tried to understand why the words about monsters were so familiar to him. It could've been a dynamite stick, so why...?

"That boy, Billy," Danil began slowly, "did he say anything else?"

Kendrick frowned and shook his head. The boy said nothing but nonsense.

"I see... so what will my training and education be like? What will I even be learning here?"

All three werewolves bared their teeth with unkind smiles, making Danil flinch. It seemed to him that someone's childish voice was laughing at him, but he put it down to his imagination.

"Oh, my young friend." Silver seemed to grow taller and began to look much more dangerous. "Here you will learn how to be a Beast!"