The Bat Hall was a remarkably spacious chamber.
Despite its name, Jon couldn't find the slightest trace of bats anywhere inside.
At the far end of the hall stood three wooden chairs draped with animal hides. Seated on each was a white-haired elder. Their attire was much the same as that of the younger wizards of Krujë—animal pelts worn simply—but their expressions were noticeably more gentle and composed.
These must be the elders, Jon thought as he followed Sandru inside.
They stopped about ten yards away from the three chairs. Sandru first pressed both hands to his chest, then crossed them together, and finally touched his temples lightly.
It seemed to be some sort of formal gesture. Jon tried to imitate it, but the sequence was unexpectedly complicated. After puzzling over it for a moment with no success, he gave up.
Instead, he simply followed Sandru's lead and bowed slightly to the three elders.
"Outsider…"
The elder seated in the central position spoke first, his voice hoarse.
"State your name."
His English was noticeably better than Sandru's—at the very least, it lacked any strange or distorted pronunciation—making communication much easier.
"I am Christopher Patrick," Jon said respectfully. "I apologize for intruding upon Krujë so abruptly."
"I am Finis Skanderbeg of Krujë," the old wizard replied without hesitation. "Friend of the Great Eagle, Elder of Krujë, Guardian of the Albanian Mountains and Forests…"
"It's an honor to meet you, Lord Finis," Jon said.
"Mr. Patrick," Finis continued, fixing Jon with a steady gaze, "Sandru tells me that you eliminated a werewolf and prevented it from infiltrating Krujë. Is that correct?"
"That's right," Jon replied calmly, meeting his eyes. "It was nothing more than a small effort."
"You averted a disaster," Finis said evenly. "You prevented a werewolf from becoming a greater threat. In doing so, you have earned the friendship of the Skanderbegs—and the right to freely enter and leave Krujë."
"So… that easy?" Jon murmured, momentarily stunned.
He hadn't expected that killing a single werewolf would earn him the "friendship" of these Albanian wizards.
"If you have any requests," Finis continued, "you may state them openly. As long as it is within our power, we will grant them, outsider."
Jon drew a slow breath before speaking.
"Yes, Elder. I do have a request… I seek a branch from the Karaba Soul Tree."
...
Herpo the Foul—an infamous ancient Greek dark wizard who lived more than two thousand years ago—was the creator of many dark arts, including Horcruxes, blood curses, and the Basilisk.
Legend held that while devising Horcruxes, Herpo struggled endlessly with how to bind a soul to a vessel.
Until one day, he came to Krujë in Albania.
There, he discovered a strange ancient tree. This tree was said to absorb the power of souls and stabilize them; when burned, it could release the soul contained within.
Herpo plucked a branch from the tree. Before it withered, he used it to absorb a fragment of his own soul. He then burned it together with the vessel, fusing soul and container into one—thus creating the first Horcrux in the history of dark magic.
He named this tree the Karaba Soul Tree.
It was exceedingly rare. The only known specimen was said to exist in Krujë, Albania. However, the tree was also reputed to have an extraordinary lifespan—up to three thousand years—and should still be alive today.
This account had been heard by Professor Horace Slughorn in his youth, while he was in Greece, from a local dark wizard. At the time, Slughorn himself had once considered creating a Horcrux—was tempted by the idea, but immediately abandoned it.
That meant the reliability of this information was, strictly speaking, uncertain.
And yet, one man who had learned of this tale from Slughorn later traveled to Albania… and successfully created a Horcrux.
Not just one—but six.
That man was Tom Riddle.
And so, following in the Dark Lord's footsteps, Jon had come here in search of a branch from the Karaba Soul Tree.
...
The moment Jon finished speaking, Elder Finis frowned. The other two elders glared at him openly.
"The Soul Tree is a sacred relic of Krujë," Finis said calmly. "It is our most precious treasure. Not even Skanderbeg himself could approach it lightly or profane it—let alone an outsider. Please choose another condition, Mr. Patrick."
Jon let out a quiet sigh. As expected, it wouldn't be that simple.
"If I'm not mistaken," Jon said, lifting his head, "I shouldn't be the first outsider to make this request. Decades ago, another foreign wizard asked for the same thing—and you agreed, didn't you?"
Sandru froze. The other two elders exchanged puzzled glances.
Finis looked at Jon with mild surprise before nodding.
"That is correct. It was fifty years ago. I was very young then, but I remember it clearly. That young foreign wizard… helped us with a far greater problem."
"I can help you as well," Jon said coldly. "Anything within my power—so long as the price is a branch from the Soul Tree."
"We need bat fangs," Finis said.
"Those evil humanoid bats from Transylvania. They frequently cross into Albanian territory under cover of night, attacking us and draining the blood of living beings."
"They slaughter our people. They kill our giant eagle kin. They fly faster than our eagles can pursue them. Destroy them. Bring me their fangs—and I will trade you a branch from the Soul Tree."
"Evil humanoid bats from Transylvania…" Jon muttered.
Vampires. There was no better match for that description—especially not those from Transylvania.
It seemed he would have to make a trip there after all.
With a soft sigh, Jon nodded.
"I accept your terms, Lord Finis. I will bring you the bat fangs—and I trust you will honor your promise."
"I swear upon the honor of my ancestor, George Skanderbeg," Finis declared without hesitation. "I will not break my word."
After a brief pause, he added, "If you wish, I can have Sandru accompany you and guide the way."
"Of course. I'd be happy to," Jon replied. More help was never a bad thing.
Sandru immediately smiled at him.
...
Everything seemed to be settled.
The three elders studied Jon with curiosity, as though questioning whether his slight build could truly accomplish such a task.
Jon paid it no mind and continued, "The young man from fifty years ago must have brought you bat fangs. May I see them? I'd like to know exactly what I'm dealing with."
"Certainly," Finis said, nodding. He waved his hand. "All of you, withdraw."
The other two elders and Sandru promptly left the Bat Hall.
Left alone with Jon, Finis led him to a bare section of wall.
He raised his hand and waved it lightly.
The wall slowly dissolved, revealing a hidden chamber no smaller than the hall itself.
At the sight within, Jon sucked in a sharp breath.
Three of the walls were completely covered in sharp fangs—dense rows of gleaming teeth reflecting the firelight. A rough estimate put the count at several hundred pairs.
At the highest point of the front wall hung a massive pair of fangs, each at least ten centimeters long, jagged and terrifying.
"They belonged to the master of Dracula Castle—Count Dracula," Finis said with a faint smile. "Fifty years ago, that young foreign wizard brought his head here and removed his fangs in front of us."
"…I see," Jon said, forcing an awkward smile. "May I know that wizard's name?"
"Right beside those fangs," Finis replied, pointing ahead.
Jon stepped closer.
Etched clearly beside the massive fangs was a name——one that made his expression falter.
Albus Gaunt.