“It’s fine.” Higgs glanced back at Cormac and gave the boy a reassuring smile.
“Listen, lad.
It’s hardly a secret anymore.” He looked towards the distant Rowle estate with open contempt.
“Just look at the sort of people that family produces.
Disgraceful.” Then he turned towards Tiberius.
“Death Eaters.
Poachers.
Wanted criminals.” Higgs gave a mocking little laugh.
“The mighty Sacred Twenty-Eight, fallen so low.” His eyes shifted to the man walking at the rear of the group.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Rufus?” “No.” Rufus Scrimgeour answered without hesitation.
“I wouldn’t.” He pushed aside a branch with his wand.
“An ancient family doesn’t simply disappear because it falls on hard times.
I’d be more careful with your words if I were you.” He paused.
“And you apparently haven’t heard the latest news.” Higgs frowned.
“The Ministry has suspended its pursuit of John Rowle and the others.” “What?” Higgs spat onto the ground.
“Damn it.” His expression twisted.
“People like them always find some way to avoid Azkaban.” “Don’t complain to me.
I don’t like it either.” Rufus sounded every bit as irritated.
“Aurors enforce decisions.
We don’t make them.” Higgs glanced sideways at him.
“Come to think of it…” A knowing smile appeared on his face.
“John Rowle used to be your colleague, didn’t he?” “WATCH OUT!” “Higgs!” Something burst from the bushes.
A Nogtail.
The creature shot straight towards Higgs— more specifically, straight between his legs.
If Rufus and Tiberius hadn’t shouted a warning, the beast might have driven its sharp tusks directly into Higgs’s backside.
Unfortunately for Higgs, his reflexes were excellent.
He spun around with remarkable speed.
“OH—!” He had intended to turn and use the wand in his hand.
Instead, the sudden movement placed an entirely different wand directly in the creature’s path.
“Freeze!” “Depulso!” Rufus and Tiberius reacted instantly.
But even fast magic couldn’t undo what had already happened.
The Nogtail was blasted away.
Higgs collapsed.
“Hsss—!” His actual wand had fallen from his hand.
He lay curled on the ground, both hands clamped between his legs, his face turning a horrifying shade of purple.
Cormac stood frozen behind him.
The attack had happened so quickly that his mind had barely caught up.
Now, staring at Higgs’s bloodshot eyes and tortured expression, Cormac instinctively squeezed his own legs together.
A phantom chill passed through his groin.
“Stay alert, Cormac!” Tiberius shoved his nephew back.
“There won’t be only one!
Nogtails usually travel in groups!” He hurried over and crouched beside Higgs.
“Can you hear me?
Higgs?” Higgs could not answer.
Only a hoarse wheeze escaped his throat.
Rufus, however, remained standing with his wand raised.
His eyes swept over the surrounding trees.
“No.” His expression hardened.
“Something’s wrong.” Tiberius looked up.
Rufus spoke quietly.
“Nogtails don’t normally attack wizards without provocation.” “Are you certain?” A voice drifted out from the trees ahead.
“Perhaps this one simply dislikes people with foul mouths.” Everyone froze.
Cormac panicked.
He didn’t even identify where the voice had come from before raising his wand.
“Expelliarmus!” The spell shot uselessly into the trees.
“Calm down, Cormac!” Tiberius rose slowly, wand still in hand.
He stared towards the shadows beneath the branches.
“James Rowle?” A figure stepped out.
“Welcome to Norfolk, Tiberius.” James Rowle emerged from the trees with David beside him.
Their black and white hunting dogs followed close behind, tongues hanging from their mouths after the chase.
Tiberius studied grandfather and grandson.
His eyes narrowed.
“That’s a rather unfriendly way to welcome a colleague.” He glanced towards the injured Higgs.
“Not terribly aristocratic of you, either.” James looked genuinely puzzled.
“I’m afraid I have no idea what you mean.” He spread his hands innocently.
Then he looked down at Higgs.
“My goodness.” James raised an eyebrow.
“What happened to him?” His tone was filled with concern.
“Would you like some help?” “No, thank you.” Tiberius immediately stepped between James and Higgs.
“We can manage.” “What a shame.” James smiled pleasantly.
“I was hoping to test a new potion I’ve been developing.” David looked up at him.
James winked.
“Come along, David.
We should find that Nogtail before it gets too far.” David tilted his head but said nothing.
He simply followed his grandfather towards a narrow path leading diagonally through the woods.
As they passed, Cormac still had his wand pointed towards them.
David stopped for half a second.
He raised one finger and pointed at the wand.
Careful.
That was all the warning he gave.
But the cold look in his eyes made Cormac instinctively lower his arm.
David continued walking.
A second later, Cormac realised what he had done.
His face flushed.
He stubbornly lifted his wand again.
Unfortunately, by then no one was looking.
“Why?” David sat on the ground beneath a tree and accepted a piece of bread from his grandfather.
“They said there are lots of werewolves living around the castle.” He took a bite.
“And they called you…” David hesitated.
“A representative of the werewolves?” James raised an eyebrow.
“Or their master?” He tore off two large pieces of beef and tossed them to the hunting dogs.
Hunting, in James’s opinion, wasn’t only about catching something.
A proper picnic was part of the experience.
He poured himself a drink.
“You know what a werewolf is, don’t you, David?” “Of course.” David shrugged.
“I like reading.” He took another bite of bread.
“I just didn’t know werewolves had representatives.” A pause.
“Or masters.” “They don’t.” James looked towards the imposing castle in the distance.
“That’s prejudice talking.” His voice remained calm.
“Werewolves are people, David.” “They’re people who have suffered from a terrible condition and then suffered again because society fears and discriminates against them.” He took a sip from his glass.
“They aren’t naturally evil.” David considered that.
“I wouldn’t know.” He shook his head.
“I’ve never met one.” “As far as I know, neither Beauxbatons nor Durmstrang had any werewolves.” James smiled.
“No, David.” “You have met one.” David stopped chewing.
James’s smile deepened.
“Barclay is a werewolf.” David stared at him.
“What?” He genuinely thought he had misheard.
“Barclay?” “The manor steward?” “That’s right.” James calmly lifted his glass again.
“Barclay.” David sat there for several seconds.
The impeccably dressed man who had collected them in Diagon Alley.
The polite steward who handled the estate.
The man who looked more like an old-fashioned gentleman than a dangerous dark creature.
A werewolf?
James seemed amused by his expression.
“Every group contains complicated people.” He took another sip.
“You can’t look at a person and know whether they are good or bad.” “Sometimes, you can’t even define what ‘good’ and ‘bad’ really mean.” David’s mouth twitched.
“I understand.” He glanced back in the direction they had come from.
“Like those people earlier?” James looked at him approvingly.
“You’re a clever boy.” David gave the last piece of his bread to the white hound that had helped chase the Nogtail.
Then another question occurred to him.
“They also called you an aristocrat.” He raised an eyebrow.
“Does the wizarding world actually have nobility?” “Oh…” James leaned back slightly.
“That goes back a very long way.” He nodded.
“You’ve studied History of Magic, so you should know that before the seventeenth century, witches and wizards still lived openly among Muggles.” David listened.
James continued, “Back then, the royal family—” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS SYSTEMATIC_MANIAC Enjoying the novel?
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