"What I mean is, if even the legendary Eternal World Tree couldn't escape death, then how could an ordinary wizard like me?"
The old man patted Harris Raymons on the shoulder. "Back when we discovered the World Tree, we were so excited we couldn't sleep. It was the magical runes I found on the World Tree's remains that allowed me to achieve what I have today, and to create the Raven."
He looked at Harris Raymons kindly. "Child, as long as the legacy lives on, there is hope. You are my hope."
"Professor..." Harris Raymons could tell that the old man no longer cared about his own life.
"Stop dwelling on life and death, child. I called you here today because I have a task for you." The old man looked at Harris Raymons, and his gaze turned sharp.
"Yes, sir." Harris Raymons pulled himself together and listened carefully.
"I want you to go to Azkaban and rescue someone," the old man said seriously.
"What?" Harris Raymons stared at him in complete confusion, wondering whether he was still half asleep and dreaming.
He even began to suspect there was something wrong with his ears, or that being petrified had damaged his brain.
Otherwise, how could he have heard his most respected teacher, a man who had always respected the rules above all else, telling him to break someone out of Azkaban?
Harris Raymons looked at the old man in disbelief and, forgetting all manners, dug at his ear.
"Sorry, Professor. Could you say that again? I think I must have misheard you," Harris Raymons said uncertainly.
If he wasn't the one with a problem, then the problem had to be with his professor.
"You heard me correctly. I want you to go to Azkaban and rescue someone," the old man repeated.
"You're serious?" Harris Raymons couldn't help raising his voice. "Why would you do that?"
"To correct a mistake," the old man said.
"A mistake? Whose mistake? And why do we have to fix it?" Harris Raymons asked in confusion.
"It's a bit complicated to explain. You can think of it this way. I foresaw a certain future, but now a small problem has appeared, and because of it, that future will no longer come to pass."
The old man smiled. "Relax. Just think of it as an old man, near the end of his life, unwilling to let his final prophecy end in error."
"But how could your prophecy be wrong?" Harris Raymons looked even more shocked by that than he had been at being told to break someone out of Azkaban. "We've always treated your prophecies as the basis for our actions."
"People make mistakes, don't they? Especially an old man like me." The old man shook his head. "The deviation started two years ago, and it led to the result we have now. But the error isn't that great. You only need to bring that person out of Azkaban."
"Who exactly is this person? And what role does he play in the future you foresaw?" Harris Raymons asked curiously.
"His name is Sirius Black. He is a key factor in another child's growth." As the old man spoke, he suddenly yawned.
"Professor?" Harris Raymons looked at him nervously. He had never seen the old man look so exhausted before. "You should rest for a while."
"It's fine. I'm not at the point of death yet." The old man shook his head. "In any case, go rescue him. If he refuses to come with you..."
"Refuses? Who wouldn't want to leave Azkaban?" Harris Raymons asked, puzzled.
"Someone who has exiled himself. Someone who believes his sins are too grave to be forgiven. Because he is not an evil man, he would do such a thing."
The old man said, "If he refuses to come with you, then all you need to tell him is..."
"...Peter Pettigrew is still alive."
...
Wolver stood by the castle's narrow window. The interior was so dim that even at noon, kerosene lamps had to be lit. This cramped, oppressive place had made him regret coming here more than once.
He was a werewolf, and one of some standing among the German werewolves. It was also he who had gathered many of them into this organization.
There were quite a few werewolves in this group that called itself the Saints, because the promises Schneider and the others had painted for them were simply too tempting.
They said Grindelwald was the greatest and most just leader of all, that he would support werewolves and change their status.
The German werewolves had no other hope, so they joined up naturally enough.
There were benefits, of course. Like the monthly Wolfsbane Potion.
Tonight was the full moon. By his reckoning, Schneider and the others should have brought the Wolfsbane Potion by now. Otherwise, he and the werewolves under him would have no choice but to spend the night out in the forest.
Damn it. If those British werewolves hadn't refused to share the Wolfsbane Potion formula, they wouldn't be stuck depending on Schneider and the others.
They were all the same kind, so why wouldn't they share it? Just because he hadn't wanted to bring his people over and join them?
Why should he join them and become their lackey?
Wolver's eyes glowed green, his expression vicious.
Those British werewolves were still being held in the castle dungeons, in miserable condition.
But as far as Wolver was concerned, they had brought it on themselves. If they refused to hand over the Wolfsbane Potion formula, then they could suffer a little longer.
He had heard that over there, their Wolfsbane Potion could already let werewolves transform at will, while on his side, they couldn't even keep up a supply of ordinary Wolfsbane Potion.
Wolver was a realist. He had no interest in playing savior with Schneider and the others. He would rather strike out on his own.
That was why he had suggested Schneider get in touch with the British werewolf, Wilder, in an attempt to obtain the Wolfsbane Potion formula. When that plan failed, he suggested that Osido attack those werewolves and try to beat the formula out of them through interrogation.
At the thought, Wolver spat on the ground.
His own kind were unreliable. The so-called Saints were unreliable too. If it weren't for the money and the Wolfsbane Potion, who the hell would join this ridiculous organization?
If they could pry the formula out of them, so much the better. Once Schneider and the others finally lost their minds and went off to find that so-called Grindelwald, he would take the werewolves and leave, along with the money.
"Knock knock knock..."
A knocking sound came from the main gate. The werewolf wizard guarding the entrance immediately became alert. Wolver could hear the werewolf at the door quietly asking the visitor to confirm his identity.
"It's Schneider. They're here!" one of the werewolves shouted.
To the outside world, Schneider was a smuggler, and during his smuggling runs he would deliver supplies to the castle.
The Wolfsbane Potion was naturally one of the most important supplies. Otherwise, on the night of the full moon, the castle would descend into chaos once the werewolves transformed.
Wolver picked up a kerosene lamp and headed for the castle gate. By the time he got there, some of the more impatient werewolves were already rummaging through the trunks enchanted with the Undetectable Extension Charm.
That infuriated him. He strode forward and kicked the unruly werewolves aside one by one.
As the werewolves went sprawling, the wizards holding the trunks showed no reaction at all. They merely watched quietly, calm smiles on their faces.