Chapter 115: I Am a Werewolf
Upon arriving at the farm, Harry was immediately surrounded by everyone, and Steven had thoughtfully prepared a sumptuous dinner.
"So, what exactly happened?" Theo asked after they finished eating.
Harry, holding a glass of pumpkin juice, recounted his experiences—how as soon as summer holidays began, the Dursleys confiscated all his magic-related belongings.
But even then, he still had some freedom of movement, until he met a House-elf who called itself Dobby.
"It said terrible things would happen at Hogwarts and wouldn't let me go back," Harry said, still finding that day absurd.
"It said it wanted to protect me, and to do that, it not only intercepted your letters to me but also used the Levitation Charm to overturn Aunt Petunia's dinner for her guests, ruining Uncle Vernon's business."
Under the concerned and anxious gazes of Hermione and the others, Harry tried to recount the events in a lighthearted tone.
"Then I received a warning from the Ministry of Magic and was locked up... well, until Wade and Mr. Lupin came to rescue me."
"That's too strange," Theo frowned. "Without a master's command, a House-elf shouldn't act on its own or use magic."
"Who could have done this?" Hermione looked around and asked.
"It must have been Malfoy!" Harry declared. "He hates me."
They discussed the various misdeeds of Malfoy and his father for a while, until Michael noticed that Wade hadn't offered any opinions.
Once people started yawning, Wade said, "Go to bed. The farm has spells set up so House-elves without permission cannot enter."
Harry nodded. He was gradually coming to agree with everyone—Dobby was just Malfoy's way of messing with him, and taking its words seriously would be foolish.
Everyone went back to their bedrooms, but Michael lingered.
"Wade," he asked, "are you still thinking about that House-elf's warning?"
"What do you think?" Wade countered.
Michael pondered for a moment before saying, "My family doesn't have House-elves, but I've heard my father talk about them... According to the nature of these creatures, all their actions should be driven by their masters."
"However..." Michael's tone shifted, "I believe that for anything with its own thoughts, nothing is absolute."
"House-elves betraying their masters, or even murdering them, are rare, but not unheard of."
"But there's nothing to worry about," Michael said naturally. "We still have Dumbledore!"
At this moment, Michael's admiration for Dumbledore could be said to have reached its peak.
Although he hadn't said it, for most of the previous year, he had been constantly on edge, worried that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would massacre students at some point.
But the subsequent outcome proved that the dark wizard who had once cast a terrifying shadow over the British Isles was merely a pawn on Dumbledore's chessboard.
What could be scarier than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?
"Indeed," Wade nodded. "I hope Hogwarts will be safe and sound this year."
Michael went to bed, but before heading upstairs, he glanced back.
Wade was sitting by the window, flipping through a newspaper, with flickering candlelight beside him. Silvery moonlight spilled onto him, like a coat draped over his shoulders.
An Owl streaked across the night sky.
Wade's gaze fixed on an advertisement in the newspaper—
[Gilderoy Lockhart will be signing copies of his autobiography, Magical Me, in Diagon Alley.]
...
In his bedroom, despite being terribly sleepy, Harry opened his long-neglected Book of Friends.
This particular page connected him, Ron, and Hermione.
Having received no birthday wishes, Harry had thought his friends had forgotten him and was incredibly disheartened.
But after Dobby appeared, Harry learned that they had all sent him gifts, only to have them intercepted by the detestable House-elf, which naturally restored his confidence.
Hermione was at Granian Farm, and Harry felt he should also let Ron know he was safe, to assure him it wasn't that he didn't want to contact them, but that he couldn't.
As soon as he sent a greeting in the Book of Friends, Ron's messages started pouring in, one after another.
[Ron: Thank Merlin you're alive!]
[Ron: Why haven't you been replying to my messages? I invited you twelve times, and Dad said you used magic in front of Muggles and got a warning from the Ministry of Magic...]
[Ron: Are you okay? I'm going to steal my dad's car to pick you up, Fred and George are coming too.]
His handwriting was scrawled and fast, and every time Harry tried to reply, Ron's next message would appear on the parchment.
Seeing the last message, he jumped and quickly replied:
[Harry: No need.]
[Harry: I've already left the Dursleys' house.]
[Ron: What happened?]
Only then did Harry have the time to explain everything to him slowly, including everyone's suspicions.
Suddenly, he heard a few thumps against his bedroom window. He looked up to see Hedwig outside, staring at him intently.
Harry opened the window, and Hedwig strode in, then placed a fresh, dead mouse on his desk, nudging it towards him with her claw.
"For me?"
Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Thank you, good girl... but I don't eat mice. You can have it yourself..."
...
Life at Granian Farm was very interesting.
Everyone followed Steven, learning to care for Crup puppies, rescuing Fairies entangled in vines, and watching Hippocampi playfully splashing in the lake with their young.
In the early morning, they'd collect Mooncalf droppings while the dew was still on the ground, trade food with Murtlaps for the juice from their tentacles, and in the evening, they'd leave chicken and fresh fish near Kneazle dens.
"It usually hunts its own food, but it's nursing now," Steven explained to them. "If it doesn't get enough food, it might abandon one or two of its weaker cubs."
The young wizards occasionally found Augurey feathers dropped in the grass, which were ingredients for Veritaserum and Memory Potion, and could fetch a good price. Steven generously told them they could keep anything they found.
In the afternoons when they had nothing to do, they'd do their homework or practice Spells in the living room, sometimes flying around the farm on their brooms.
A few days flew by. The young wizards each returned home via the Floo Network, and Lupin had also prepared his new house, ready to take Harry away.
Before that, he confessed something: "Harry, Wade, I... I'm a Werewolf."
He hadn't intended to tell anyone, but after much thought, he felt he shouldn't hide it.
"A Werewolf?" Harry looked bewildered.
It wasn't that he didn't know what a Werewolf was, but he didn't have any real sense of their danger.
Wade nodded. "I know."
"You... know?"
Lupin was surprised at first, then gave a wry smile. "No wonder you never contacted me on the night of the full moon. I never even realized..."
He looked at Harry and explained, "I was bitten by a Werewolf when I was little, so I became one too."
"But I promise, you're safe. I'll leave the house before the full moon each month. And I'll always take Wolfsbane Potion..."
After Wade found him a job, he finally had enough money to buy Wolfsbane Potion. It was a Potions that allowed Werewolves to retain their sanity even after transforming.
"Of course," Lupin quickly added, worried Harry might object. "Actually, you could also stay at Granian Farm. I asked Mr. Murray, and he's happy for you to stay there until school starts."
"I'll go with you." Harry gripped his hand, saying firmly, "I believe you won't hurt me!"
He had longed for a place to belong for too long. Not even a Werewolf could make him afraid or back down.
...
"Get ready, Wade." After a quiet day returned to the farm, Steven happily said, "We'll visit Mr. Scamander tomorrow. I've already made arrangements with him."
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