Chapter 105 "Kingsley's Death"

The repercussions of the Rowle family incident continue to reverberate, particularly affecting the lives of Werewolves who relied on the family's resources for survival.

In the wizarding world, Werewolves face discrimination from wizards due to perceived dangers associated with their condition. Consequently, many Werewolves struggled to secure decent employment, leading to impoverished living conditions.

Seeking refuge in pure-blood families, such as the Rowle family, a group of Werewolves led by Fenrir Greyback, exchanged their services for essential resources. This clandestine arrangement allowed pure-blood families to benefit without direct involvement.

When news of the Rowle family's downfall reached these Werewolves, who were kept in the dark about the events, the abrupt halt in supplies raised suspicions.

Only this month did they realize that something had gone awry. Fenrir advocated seeking refuge with another pure-blood family, but not all Werewolves under his leadership agreed. Some Werewolves, discontented with their stagnant existence, opted to break away.

Under the harsh conditions of hunger and cold, these disenchanted Werewolves resorted to criminal activities, including burglary, arson, and looting. This posed a significant threat to both the wizarding and Muggle communities.

Simultaneously, the Ministry of Magic found itself overwhelmed. Each day, the Ministry received a minimum of 30 reports related to Werewolf crimes. Despite deploying Aurors, strong wizards, and reconnaissance teams regularly, their efforts were strained. The suppression of one Werewolf incident often led to the emergence of new cases elsewhere.

On a particular day, five Werewolves launched an attack in a secluded village in Yorkshire. The village echoed with the sounds of people screaming, weeping, and houses burning. Three Aurors patrolling a nearby area, arrived in the nick of time to engage in a fierce battle with the Werewolves.

Werewolves posed a significant threat to ordinary wizards, but they were manageable for well-trained Aurors like Kingsley Shacklebolt. With superior training, these Aurors could easily apprehend Werewolves if not for the numerical advantage the creatures had.

One particular Werewolf demonstrated cunning intelligence. Recognizing the dire situation, the Werewolf betrayed its companion, swiftly evading capture and disappearing into the dense and foreboding woods.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, already frustrated that his day off had turned into an overtime assignment, felt a sense of irritation. His boss, Scrimgeour, didn't share a good rapport with him, and his pure-blood family background had attracted unwarranted hostility.

This mission, handed down by Scolinger without discussion, only added to his displeasure. Patrolling impoverished countryside areas proved tiresome, often yielding little success and contributing nothing to his record of accomplishments—a significant waste of time.

Determined to bring these Werewolves to justice and alleviate his own frustration, Kingsley set off in pursuit. Chuckling at the Werewolf's apparent dilemma, he didn't anticipate that a Werewolf from the opposite direction would slip away unnoticed.

This wasn't acceptable to Kingsley. He wouldn't allow any Werewolf to escape his grasp. His first thought echoed the sentiment of not letting the Werewolf slip away, akin to holding a mountain with his five fingers. He is confident that the escaping Werewolf will be apprehended on his own.

Chasing into the woods alone, Kingsley exuded confidence in his abilities. He ranked among the top five in the Auror team of over 30 members, with Scolinger slightly surpassing him—a fact he begrudgingly accepted.

However, he considered himself superior to others like Robards and Dawlish, even if he were to deploy his family's secret techniques. He believed he had the upper hand against a lone Werewolf, even under the right circumstances.

Yet, he was mistaken.

Kingsley spotted the Werewolf in the woods and observed an absence of fear in its eyes—only indifference and cruelty. The Werewolf transformed into a swift black shadow, hurtling towards Kingsley with an unexpected ferocity.

Kingsley was aware that the Werewolf's fur possessed exceptional resistance to magic, necessitating physical attacks. Swiftly brandishing his wand, a combination of a whirlwind and flames erupted from its tip, striking the Werewolf accurately and propelling it three feet into the air.

While visibly scorched, the Werewolf showed no signs of intimidation. Instead, it roared in greater fury, its body arching, fur bristling, readying for the next assault.

Kingsley orchestrated a dance with his wand, undeterred, manipulating dead branches and boulders to disrupt the Werewolf's movements, causing it to dodge from side to side.

Confident that victory was imminent, Kingsley suddenly sensed danger. His body swiftly evaded a dangerously close blue light, and he turned around just in time.

A sinister laughter echoed from the trees, where an ugly old witch sat on a thick branch – Annis.

"Annis, it's you!" Kingsley's mind raced, attempting to process the unexpected turn of events. He shouted coldly, continuously casting spells to fend off the opportunistic Werewolves, "Even the hags have joined these attacks on civilians. Are you the one responsible for all this??"

After narrowly escaping another attack from Annis and launching the Werewolf into the air once more, Kingsley declared with determination, "This time, none of you will escape!"

However, Kingsley found himself immobilized before he could comprehend the unfolding situation. Confused and unable to discern the truth, he was denied any chance of understanding.

At that very moment, a colossal Werewolf figure hurtled towards him. Experiencing a sharp pain in his neck, Kingsley couldn't even act before finally closing his eyes as he saw Annis laughing like a maniac.

Beside Kingsley's lifeless corpse, his shadow stirred slowly, seemingly infused with a semblance of life.

After a brief moment, the shadow emerged from the ground, gradually solidifying into a tangible form. The Werewolf lowered its hands and knelt respectfully.

"Tsk tsk..." Annis expressed dissatisfaction, "Bathory, I've told you, your shadow restraint technique seems useless. It takes too long to prepare. If it weren't for me and this little wolf's cooperation, this guy would remain unrestrained by your hand!"

Bathory's eyes gleamed with cunning. "Have you ever considered why Lord Malfoy chose only our two races among the myriad outcast races as allies?"

"Cut it out!" Annis retorted, "Does this need saying? Obviously, it's because of our two races' weird, unpredictable, insidious, and distinct methods. It aligns with his penchant for secretive actions and benefits his plan!"

Bathory slowly shook his head. "You're only mentioning one aspect. Don't forget that the ogres, the fairy royal family, and the banshees all possess formidable abilities tucked away in their arsenals, no less potent than ours..."

"Then what do you mean?" Annis raised her eyebrows while staring at Bathory discontentedly.

"I believe," Bathory pondered for a moment, then slowly continued, "it's because the abilities of our two races can harmonize and complement each other. Lord Malfoy must have recognized this—he's a discerning individual. Think about how many tactical combinations can arise from the shadow magic and hypnotic abilities of our blood-sucking royal family paired with the mind control and poison magic of your mother..."

"I say, do you idolize him too much? How old is he? How can you be so certain about the compatibilities of our abilities that have been thought that far by that kid? Are you sure it's not that he just prefers the way of our works?" Annis scoffed, although she recalled the magical vision Schelling cast during her recruitment, a moment that sent shivers down her spine and made her question her skepticism.

Bathory's lips curled slightly. "See, you still can't accept it. You simply refuse to acknowledge the truth."

"Cut! The old woman is no stranger to age and naturally resents taking orders from a kid." Annis observed Bathory's expression and amended, "But there's no other way. Calling him Young Master is not just a matter of his influential family background and formidable strength. Honestly, it's also the fortune of an old woman to be able to follow him—" At this point, Annis consciously lowered her voice and muttered, "I don't want to become his enemy..."

Bathory remained silent after hearing Annis' explanation, she herself knew and could relate really well to what Annis just said. No one in their sane mind would dare to make an enemy out of Skyler Malfoy.

She turned her attention to the young Werewolf. "Where were you?" Her tone became serious, with a touch of coldness. "Did you harm any innocent villagers?"

"No, truly not," the Werewolf lowered his head in fear. "We followed the orders of the Young Lord and the two families. We merely frightened the villagers. We set off some lights. There was absolutely no harm done to anyone. Everything we did was to cooperate with the master's plan..."

"That's for the best. If the Lord finds out that innocent people were harmed, none of us can protect you!" Bathory replied.

"Yes, yes," the Werewolf nodded and bowed hastily. "The little wolf understands. Thank you for your guidance."

"What about your four Werewolf companions?" A subtle smile appeared in Bathory's eyes.

"They don't listen to me; they just want to return to Fenrir's pack. Even though Fenrir has aligned with the Selwyn family, how can the Selwyn family compare to the Young Lord?" The Werewolf gritted his teeth and spoke ruthlessly, "Since they're so stubborn, I can't be blamed. This time, they deserve to be sacrificed. Let the Ministry of Magic apprehend them!"

"Very well, let's go! The Young Lord is waiting for our report, and he won't be pleased if he's kept waiting." Bathory called with a smile on her face.