Concerned about the "oddball" Sandru beside him, Jon chose not to force the truth out of the werewolf with Veritaserum. Instead, he used Legilimency to carefully read through the man's memories.
Within minutes, he had a clear understanding of the situation.
Not every werewolf possessed the integrity of Remus Lupin, the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts.
As one of the most marginalized and heavily discriminated humanoid groups in the wizarding world, many werewolves developed deeply antisocial behavior. At the forefront was the notorious Fenrir Greyback, the de facto leader of these werewolves.
A Death Eater responsible for countless crimes, he had bitten or killed innumerable innocent wizards on nights of the full moon and had repeatedly slipped through the Aurors' grasp.
The werewolf before them—Gene Crewe, operating under the alias "William Smith"—was one of Greyback's most loyal followers.
Under Greyback's command, they deliberately approached unsuspecting wizards before the full moon, only to transform and strike once the moon rose… either killing their victims outright or turning them into werewolves like themselves.
Most wizards who were infected in this way, unable to endure the humiliation and despair—since the werewolf curse was completely incurable—ultimately chose suicide.
A small minority, however, went through a prolonged and twisted psychological transformation and eventually became part of Greyback's pack.
Unlike his brutish kin, Gene preferred to present himself as a well-mannered gentleman, which made it far easier to gain other wizards' trust and get close to them. Yet when it came to cruelty, he was no less savage than the rest.
In recent years, however, such attacks had become far less common due to coordinated crackdowns by magical ministries across Europe against werewolf insurgents.
Greyback and his followers no longer dared to run rampant in major magical nations like Britain or France. Instead, they confined their activities to smaller countries in Eastern and Southern Europe—lawless regions akin to no-man's-lands.
With Voldemort's return, Fenrir Greyback swiftly led his followers to join him.
Greyback believed that under the Dark Lord's rule, werewolves would be treated better, and Voldemort had promised them sacrifices in return for their service.
Gene likewise became part of Voldemort's forces, though he was not yet qualified to be a true Death Eater.
A month earlier, Voldemort and the Death Eaters had suffered a devastating defeat at the Department of Mysteries, leaving them badly weakened. Left with no alternatives, Voldemort was forced to rely on these werewolves—whom he had once scorned, yet who remained fanatically loyal—to carry out a task for him.
Fenrir Greyback gathered the majority of the werewolves and headed for Transylvania, Romania, to seek out a group of ancient allies for the Dark Lord.
Gene, meanwhile, received a different assignment: to travel to Krujë, Albania, and retrieve an item for Voldemort.
However, just after entering Albanian territory, he arrived on the night of a full moon—and happened to encounter a lone underage wizard, something he confirmed through the moving pictures in Jon's book.
Gene immediately decided to launch an attack.
After all, the boy looked completely harmless.
This time, though, the hunter became the hunted—and fell here.
...
The moon in the sky grew ever clearer, and Sandru could not help but frown.
If the boy named Christopher Patrick was telling the truth, then once the full moon fully revealed itself, this refined British gentleman would—
Though Sandru felt no fear deep down, he still spoke in a low voice.
"Mr. Patrick?"
Jon seemed to hesitate, weighing his options, before finally making a choice.
"Ah… I was hoping to borrow your soul," he sighed softly.
As the words left his mouth, the clouds overhead fully dispersed, and moonlight from the full moon poured into the compartment, bathing all three of them.
Gene's tailcoat split apart at once. His head elongated, his body stretched, his shoulders hunched upward. Coarse hair sprouted visibly across his face, and his hands curled as they transformed into claws…
"Damn it!" Sandru shouted, staggering back several steps as he glared at the werewolf in mid-transformation.
"Bang!"
The sharp report rang out like a thunderclap.
"Bang… bang… bang…"
"Bang… bang… bang…"
The sound rang out seven times in total, leaving Sandru momentarily stunned.
By the time he snapped back to his senses, the werewolf—still not fully transformed—was already drenched in blood from head to torso, riddled with bullet holes.
Jon calmly slipped the empty pistol back into his pocket. He glanced at the corpse—four bullets in the head, three in the upper body—then looked at the food and wine on the table, now splattered with blood.
"What a shame. Looks like we can't finish dinner."
He shrugged at Sandru.
"Silver bullets. Prepared them years ago, but they never really saw any use back then. I didn't expect they'd come in handy here."
Then he took out a small silver box from his other pocket and fiddled with it. A fierce flame burst out at once, raising the room's temperature by several degrees.
"I just used a Muffliato Charm, so the ordinary people downstairs won't hear what's happening up here," Jon continued, explaining to the dumbstruck Sandru. "But the werewolf's body still needs to be dealt with. Otherwise, we'd be violating the International Statute of Secrecy."
The small cluster of flames reduced the werewolf's corpse to ashes at a speed visible to the naked eye. Sandru stared at the tiny blaze with unease, as though it might suddenly surge toward him.
With a light flick of the silver box in Jon's hand, the terrifying flames instantly withdrew, vanishing as if they had never existed.
...
"All taken care of."
Jon smiled at Sandru, then asked with clear interest,
"Now it's your turn, Mr. Sandru. Shall we talk about your true identity?"
Sandru's ugly, coarse little eyes narrowed once more.
After a brief hesitation, he spoke slowly.
"Sandru… Sandru Skanderbeg."
"And what is your relationship to the great George Skanderbeg?" Jon asked calmly, showing no particular surprise.
"He is my ancestor," Sandru replied solemnly. "For more than five hundred years, the Skanderbeg family's duty has been to safeguard Albania's security. When the elders learned that two ill-intentioned wizards had entered Albanian territory, they sent me to monitor you."
"There was only one ill-intentioned werewolf," Jon said, pointing at the ashes on the floor. "And he's already dead. So, Mr. Sandru… could you take me to visit Krujë?"
Sandru Skanderbeg hesitated. He glanced at the ashes, then at Jon, a hint of fear in his expression.
"Follow me…"
After a long pause, he finally spoke.
He walked a few steps toward the window, waved his hand lightly, and pushed it open—then leapt down.
"Get on my back!"
Jon heard Sandru's voice from outside.
A moment later, a massive eagle—its body over two meters long—beat its wings and appeared outside the window, turning its head to look at him.