"..."
Fenrir Greyback sneered disdainfully, but the slight twitch of his nose betrayed the man's inner craving.
"Hungry?"
William asked knowingly — nonsense, he had starved the other party for two and a half days in advance.
"..."
Fenrir still did not answer, but his eyes couldn't help but glance at the grease-paper bag in William's hand — although the pungent spices covered most of the smell, he could still detect a faint mutton scent, it was lamb.
The man took a deep breath, trying to control... finished, even hungrier.
As one of the most notorious werewolves in the British Magic Realm, Fenrir's least skilled ability was controlling the desires within his heart. From some unknown point, the slaughter on every full moon night could no longer satisfy his cravings, so even when not under the full moon, he started wantonly attacking Muggles, even consuming human flesh, just to satisfy his inner bloodthirsty urge —
After the Dark Lord vanished without a trace, he chose to leave the Magic Realm, wandering through various Muggle Communities across the United Kingdom.
To reduce risks, he forced himself to decrease the frequency of assaults on Muggles, but the monthly "routine business" he never thought to, nor could stop — until that full moon night two months ago, he woke up in a pitch-dark room, and there stood a boy.
When the Crucio curse landed on him, he even thought the Dark Lord had returned.
He thought he would die on that night, but for unknown reasons, the boy spared his life, although he would rather have died on the spot.
Unable to bear the hunger in his stomach, the man straightened his back with difficulty, he gazed into the boy's slightly glowing dark blue eyes, "I told you, I don't know, ever since the Dark Lord disappeared, I have no contact with them at all..."
"... I don't believe it." William scratched the belly of the Niffler in his hand, the little creature, almost recovered, still tried to burrow into William's embrace. He casually lifted his eyes, the radiance in them growing ever more luminous, "Speak the truth, there can be a reward —"
"I fucking already told the truth!" The man snarled irritably, he raised his hand as though to seize the cage but withdrew at the last moment, "Phew—" As the hunger in his abdomen grew increasingly unbearable, he forcibly calmed down, "I truly don't know where those remaining Death Eaters have gone, perhaps the Ministry of Magic has locked them in Azkaban —"
"Alright, since you don't want to speak..."
"Wait, I'm not done speaking—" The man's pace of speech quickened abruptly, he pointed his finger at the wall behind William, "But that box, its owner knows the location of a Werewolf Community, that was my previous target —"
"... Werewolf Community?" William's action of rising paused, he turned his head, the wall bore the Traceless Extension Box seized along with this werewolf at the time, "Alright, speak carefully." The boy nodded, gesturing for the man to continue speaking.
"After the Dark Lor... Voldemort left, I've been independently detached from the Wizarding World for many years, recent years have been relatively quiet, so I planned to reorganize a force, a Werewolf Army —" Fenrir paused, "But my kind hides extremely well, even I find it hard to locate them. Therefore, I accepted a commission, with the reward being the location of a Werewolf Community."
"Transport these Magic Materials?"
William looked to the other side, the Magic Materials had been taken out and sorted into categories on the shelf.
Fenrir nodded to confirm.
"... A well-hidden Werewolf Community, you think they will agree to you organizing an army?"
"No, sir, the Ministry of Magic's oppression of us werewolves is stronger than you imagine, so we internally contain a force, they merely lack a leader. As long as you let me complete the trade, this force can immediately be at your disposal!" Fenrir seemed to have made a decision, his head slightly drooped, and his tone began to turn respectful.
"Internal force?" William chuckled, "You mean using this force to attack children?"
"Hehe, sir, our members still need expansion —"
The man seemed not to hear the sarcasm in William's tone, instead, he too grinned, exposing a mouth full of uneven sharp yellow teeth.
Many werewolves, led by Greyback, would treat spreading the werewolf disease as their mission, hoping that one day they could create enough werewolves to rule the Magic World. And attacking children with undeveloped minds made it easier for them to instill the idea that wizards are enemies.
"Alright, seeing as you're so 'loyal'—"
William nodded, directly tossing the paper bag in his hand into the cage.
"Are you planning to let me out?"
The man suppressed the impulse to immediately pounce toward the paper bag, instead, he stared at William with expectant eyes.
"Of course—no, some things always require personal experience." A hint of strange color flashed in William's eyes, he shook his head, took out his magic wand—"Hair, Accio." A coarse grey hair fell into his hand.
"Time, place, person—speak."
"The first weekend of October, Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade, we have a contact signal—"
"Is there anything else?"
"Yes, sir—also one piece of information, if you attempt to approach Hogsmeade, you may try contacting a Death Eater named Severus Snape... he should be at Hogwarts now, though I don't know how he fooled the Ministry of Magic, I can guarantee with my life, he was once the most loyal follower of the Dark Lor... Voldemort!"
"Sne... alright, I got it, shut up."
"Yes, sir."
Fenrir showed no discontent, only his head drooped lower.
"... Just stay put, in the future, one meal a day for you."
William stood up, while pulling out a notebook from his pocket, walking to another room—"Wait, where's my pen..."
...
Until half a minute after William's figure completely disappeared, Fenrir finally lifted his head, his ferocious face filled with a smile — he never expected to so simply leave, as a fugitive wanted by the Ministry of Magic for decades yet still at large, of course he knew how to play the role.
But now it seems, this little brat called William is much like Voldemort—
Arrogant, eager for others to bow to him.
However, now he reckoned he'd save his life, because even Voldemort couldn't possibly solely control so many werewolves, by then he'd still be needed to play the role of leading wolf.
As long as he stayed alive, the opportunity for reversal would always emerge.
But for now...
The man lowered his head, looking at the paper bag full of aroma and temptation, he couldn't wait to crouch down, clawing open the paper bag, beginning to ravenously devour the lamb... wait, where's the meat?
Staring at the paper bag filled with spice-coated flatbread, the man blinked blankly.