Chapter 143: A Tedious Hunt with an Anticlimactic End

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The wolves' howls in the middle of the night were faint but distinct. Harry wasn't afraid of wild wolves. The forest wolves were small, and dealing with them was no more challenging than swatting pesky creatures.

To Harry, the speed of ordinary creatures was laughably slow, like watching a movie in slow motion. Dodging them was effortless. Handling snakes barehanded wasn't a skill exclusive to cats either. Back on the island, Harry once encountered an innocent little snake and spent an entire evening flicking its head with his finger. That same night, he treated himself to some grilled snake meat as a snack.

Harry's thoughts were scattered, drifting aimlessly. People say that lunatics have a broad scope of thinking, and Harry, with his chaotic and playful nature, wasn't far off. As he turned over on his side, a mischievous idea popped into his head.

"Can't catch a werewolf? Fine, I'll catch some wolves instead!"

Springing up, Harry carefully avoided disturbing Hagrid, who was snoring away. He walked over to the Thestrals. These creatures had more stamina than he'd imagined. Though they did rest a bit each day, they could go several nights without sleep, just as they could handle days-long flights without landing. A sleepless night was a trivial matter for them.

"Woo-woo, let's head out!"

Harry mounted Woo-woo, his Thestral, and the pair silently soared into the sky. The cool night breeze rustled Harry's robe as he lay on the Thestral's back, whispering to it.

"Did you hear the wolves howling just now? Let's go have some fun with them."

Forest wolves, formally known as coyotes, originally inhabited North America. While a few small populations existed in England, they were rare. This was largely thanks to meddling activists who released them into the wild after disrupting zoos. These self-righteous fools never did anything constructive but always left a mess in their wake.

And let's not forget the extreme animal rights advocates. Unlike true conservationists who work selflessly in the field, these phonies were all about grandstanding for funding. Sure, their superficial efforts might have "saved" a few species, but their shallow minds and limited knowledge never accounted for the consequences of their actions.

Fortunately, this world operated on clean natural energy, preserving much of the natural environment. As a result, the damage caused by invasive species was largely contained.

The forest wolves in the Cairngorm Mountains were not numerous. Their howls, which seemed to echo everywhere, were due to the coyotes' solitary nature, with the occasional small group of three or five. Moreover, many predators in the area preyed on coyotes, keeping their numbers in check. The population of a few hundred was manageable since their invasion was recent, and even their remarkable adaptability hadn't yet disrupted the ecosystem.

"Doesn't matter if I can't find werewolves; the full moon is only two days away. No werewolf can resist performing the Crescent Howl ritual under the full moon, and there's no Wolfsbane Potion to save them here."

"If they dare howl, I dare catch them!"

"Anyway, these little guys shouldn't be howling at night when they should be sleeping."

Woo-woo dived into the woods, startling a coyote that had been carrying a fox carcass in its jaws, looking for a quiet spot to feast. Terrified by the sudden attack from above, the coyote barely ran two meters before a large hand grabbed its neck and stuffed it into a bag. Escape was impossible once it landed in Harry's hands.

"On to the next one," Harry said.

Thestrals weren't as sensitive to scents as bloodhounds, but their sense of smell was still dozens of times sharper than that of regular hunting dogs. With Woo-woo flying swiftly through the forest canopy, every dive resulted in Harry snatching another unlucky coyote.

Man and beast worked seamlessly together. Harry's powerful physique could withstand acceleration forces exceeding 10g, while the Thestral's magic ensured silent, supersonic flight without the usual deafening sonic boom. An invisible magical barrier naturally formed around the creature, shielding it from the adverse effects of high-speed travel. This was why Thestrals were the top choice for long-distance wizard travel.

To put it simply, the Thestral was unrivaled in stability and comfort, surpassing any artificial flying device, including wizard rockets.

By morning, Harry had filled a massive wooden cage covering several hundred square meters. Over a hundred trembling coyotes huddled in one corner. The sight of Harry, the "Great Demon King," was terrifying enough, but the Thestrals circling outside the cage made their fear palpable.

Although the coyotes couldn't see the invisible Thestrals, as members of the canine family, they could smell the unique, death-like scent that clung to them. Despite their docile temperament, Thestrals were carnivorous, and anyone who had seen them eat would think twice about underestimating them. With heads resembling dragons, they could bare razor-sharp teeth, exposing hooked tongues capable of stripping flesh from bone with brutal efficiency.

Some unlucky coyotes had already been skinned by curious Thestrals, who did so as effortlessly as peeling the wrapper off a sausage. This silent terror had the coyotes losing control of their bladders, leaving puddles on the ground.

"How'd you end up with so many wolves?"

Rubbing his eyes, Hagrid woke up to the enormous cage as his first sight of the day. Harry had cast spells to block out the sounds and smells, ensuring the animals didn't disturb Hagrid's sleep.

"Since I can't track down any werewolves, I figured I'd wait for the full moon to flush them out with their howling. These wolves kept yapping through the night, so I decided to round them up to keep them from causing trouble later."

"It's not even that many." Harry stretched, unconcerned about the sleepless night. "We'll sort it all out in two days. The forest is huge, but Woo-woo flies fast."

Hagrid gave Harry a long look, too exasperated to say much. "You're really something, aren't you? All this effort, and you'll have to let them go anyway."

"Slaughter them all and pack them up for Norbert's dinner. Five or six hundred wolves should be enough to last him a month. He's bored of eating sheep and cattle every day, so a change of taste will do him good."

Harry added with a smirk, "Although it might mean asking Fawkes to make two extra trips."

He waved toward Fawkes, who perched obediently on a wooden rack by the campfire. The loyal phoenix swooped gracefully to land on Harry's raised arm.

"When we get back, I'll squeeze a few Goblin Fires out of Professor Dumbledore. What do you think, Fawkes? Care to help?"

Fawkes blinked its small eyes thoughtfully, then nodded, apparently finding no issue with Harry's mischievous scheme to extort Dumbledore.

"Then it's settled!"

With this pact made, Harry and Fawkes seemed to share an unspoken understanding. Without Hagrid to weigh them down, a couple of trips to haul the captured wolves wouldn't trouble the phoenix much.

In the following days, the ill-fated forest wolves vanished one after another. Still not fully entrenched in their ecological niche, their disappearance wouldn't upset the forest's balance. Had their population grown into the thousands over the next few decades, culling them then would have caused ecological ripples. But now? They weren't even officially "registered residents" of the Cairngorms.

As for the werewolves hiding within the mountains, their elusiveness spoke of their human intelligence despite their beast-like tendencies. These werewolves stayed deep within the wilderness, avoiding detection by the Ministry of Magic. Their existence was a clandestine one, far removed from the comforts of normal society.

Finally, the full moon rose. The Cairngorm Mountains fell silent, no longer filled with wolf howls. The captured coyotes had been transported to Hogwarts and left as living snacks for Norbert. The dragon seemed to relish these fresh morsels, crunching through the live wolves with evident glee.

Dragons, being magical creatures with flame-spewing capabilities, had no concern for parasites or hygiene. Their lava-hot fire and corrosive stomach acid could dissolve steel, rendering even the hardiest contaminants harmless. Norbert's kind, famed for their "iron stomachs," were the most fearsome dragons, capable of wiping out small villages with their dragonfire. Even the hardy, dragon-slaying Russians preferred to fight frost dragons over tangling with these nearly invincible juggernauts.

Under the quiet glow of the moon, Harry, astride his Thestral WuWu, joined Hagrid in the skies. Hagrid rode a carriage pulled by four Thestrals, scanning the dense forest below for signs of werewolves.

Suddenly, the Thestrals veered sharply, homing in on Cairngorm Peak. Hagrid, his booming voice carrying through the night air, shouted to Harry, "I hear them! Over there!"

Though Harry's enhanced senses hadn't yet picked up the howls, Hagrid's magically fortified body gave him the edge. While Harry's dynamic vision was unmatched, Hagrid's other senses left him far behind.

As they approached a rocky cliffside, the werewolves came into view. The moonlight revealed hulking, muscular figures coated in dark, bristling fur. Fully transformed, these werewolves exuded primal power, their howls filled with a maddening thirst for blood and violence.

The Thestrals made no attempt to remain hidden, their rapid descent a brazen show of dominance. Hagrid's carriage smashed into the ground, disintegrating under the sheer force of impact. But Hagrid, unfazed, used the momentum to leap directly onto the cliff.

"HA!"

With a thunderous roar, Hagrid drove his massive fist into the ground. The force of the blow shattered the rock, sending deep cracks spidering outward. The werewolves recoiled, their savage instincts momentarily overridden by shock. The cliffside groaned under the strain before collapsing in an avalanche of rubble.

Hagrid, supposed to use tranquilizer darts, had entirely abandoned the plan in his excitement. One werewolf, smaller but quicker than the rest, lunged at Hagrid, aiming to take advantage of his lowered stance. But a massive hand, as large as a dustbin lid, snatched it mid-air. With an effortless swing, Hagrid slammed the unfortunate creature into the ground like a ragdoll, reducing its body to a mangled pulp.

Even the other werewolves, wild as they were, froze momentarily at the brutal display.

Freed from the carriage, the Thestrals dove into the fray. Their razor-sharp fangs tore through werewolves with surgical precision, their eerie dragon-like heads dripping with blood. By the time they soared back into the sky, they left behind paralyzed enemies, spines severed and bodies broken.

The largest werewolf, towering at nearly three meters, emerged from the rubble—a match in size for Hagrid. Its muscular frame rippled with raw power, but it hesitated.

Harry arrived moments later, spotting the fleeing behemoth clambering down the cliffs. Yet, what should have been exhilarating—a high-speed chase or an epic battle—left him disappointed.

"This is boring," Harry muttered to himself.

With a flick of his wand, a shadowy figure shot from his body, spreading a wave of chaotic, malevolent energy. The aura paralyzed the fleeing werewolf, locking it in place.

"*Sectumsempra!*"

Dark blades slashed through the creature's limbs, ending the anticlimactic hunt in mere seconds.

"Note to self: Never bring overpowered allies to a hunt. Got it, Harry?" he mumbled under his breath.

He deftly stopped the werewolf's bleeding with a flame spell, tied it up, and tossed it over WuWu's back.

"This was a letdown," he sighed. "Hagrid, let's head back and have a barbecue. I've got some vodka left; want a drink tonight?"

(End of Chapter)