Leonard felt no resistance at all as he looked through the giant wolf leader's eyes and into its mind. At the same time, the giant wolf leader felt that Leonard's eyes were as deep and dangerous as a bottomless pool.
Images rushed in, and Leonard saw the giant wolf leader surrounded by a pack of giant wolves as though stars were crowding around the moon, a distinctly human look of contentment on its furry face.
Then came scattered fragments of thought. Want to rebel so badly, but I can't beat them.That beating hurt like hell.Miss my wife.
As a magical creature capable of speaking human language, the giant wolf leader possessed intelligence and reasoning no less than a human's, but without the same complicated emotions. Its thoughts were therefore more direct, and what Leonard could see was simple and straightforward.
Leonard examined the giant wolf leader's jumble of thoughts. It did have thoughts of rebellion, but that was only the natural result of being subdued by force.
Every living thing had a few dark thoughts hidden away in its heart. That was nothing unusual.
If anything, those thoughts proved there was nothing wrong with the giant wolf leader. That tiny urge to rebel could be soothed easily enough with a few rewards or a few more beatings.
Leonard gave Midgard a nod, signaling that the giant wolf leader was fine and that its words could be trusted.
Midgard understood at once and asked, "What do we do next?"
"Same as before. Act like you never came to me and keep shrinking things down as planned," Leonard said. "I'll look into it first."
That gray mist kept nagging at him. He wanted to ask around and see whether anyone knew anything about it.
He had read a lot of books without finding any real clue, so if he wanted answers, he would probably have to ask one of the professors with broader knowledge.
The best person to ask was naturally Harris Raymons, who was still lying petrified in the hospital wing. He was a member of the Ravens, so if this had been their doing, he definitely ought to know something about that gray mist.
And even if it was not the Ravens, as a member of a mysterious organization devoted to digging up history, Harris Raymons ought to have knowledge far beyond the ordinary.
Otherwise, Leonard would look down on him.
"I don't think showing no reaction at all is a good idea." This time, Midgard did not agree immediately. After thinking for a moment, she said, "If they released this guy on purpose, then us not reacting at all might actually make the enemy suspicious."
Midgard's view was that whether this enemy really existed or not, they first needed to make some kind of response.
"You've improved a lot." Leonard looked at Midgard in surprise. She was clearly no longer the reckless brute who only knew how to think with her muscles.
"So reading does help a little," Midgard said, sounding rather proud.
"Improvement is a good thing, but this matter..." Leonard shook his head.
What Midgard said made sense. If they were dealing with an ordinary enemy, that approach would be fine. But the problem was that they still had no idea what the enemy's goal was.
What if the enemy struck at home instead? For example, what if they stole the crucial improved Wolfsbane Potion formula while the werewolves were focused on an outside threat?
That was not impossible. The most advanced Wolfsbane Potion could already cure the werewolf curse, removing its contagiousness while still allowing the drinker to keep a werewolf's physical strength, powerful magic, and ability to transform.
How was that any different from a bloodline wizard? If anything, it was even stronger.
Ordinary bloodline wizards did not come into being easily. It was not because of variety, but because generations of wizards had coveted the power of magical creatures and carried out experiment after experiment until those bloodlines were finally produced.
Some of those experiments were grotesque, some were bloody, and every bloodline wizard inheritance represented the sacrifice of many wizards who had been used as test subjects.
Well, except for Veela bloodlines. Veela were humanoid magical creatures, and their standards of beauty matched human ones. Other bloodline wizard inheritances were bloody legacies, but that one really was more like a sensual story.
Even then, inheriting Veela blood was not easy. Veela had high standards, after all. You had to be handsome enough before you even qualified to give your descendants a touch of Veela blood.
But for werewolves, it was much simpler.
All it took was for an ordinary werewolf to infect someone, then for that person to drink the complete strengthened Wolfsbane Potion, and just like that, a fresh new bloodline wizard was born.
As for whether that power could be passed down by blood, no one knew yet. Up to now, no werewolf wizard who had taken the complete strengthened Wolfsbane Potion had produced children.
But gaining tremendous power from a single bottle of potion? Voldemort would have drooled over that. He had given up his nose for power.
...
Time passed quickly, and before long it was already May.
The Quidditch teams from the two highest-scoring houses began stepping up their training, working hard for the last Quidditch match of the term.
That also drew some students to watch the teams' daily practices in between studying.
Most students, however, still flocked to the library. Quidditch practice before a match was not all that interesting, and compared with watching training, they would much rather cram at the last minute and raise their miserable grades a little.
None of that had anything to do with Leonard.
He had no interest in Quidditch at all, and studying was even less of an issue. It simply was not difficult for him.
So while everyone else agonized over whether to study or have fun, Leonard could casually choose to go help out in the greenhouses.
May marked the beginning of mandrake season, and the mandrakes in the greenhouses would gradually begin to mature.
So Leonard made a special trip to help Professor Sprout deal with the mandrakes.
Inside the greenhouse, Leonard expertly picked out one mature mandrake from among the densely packed pots and handed it to Professor Sprout.
"These should be the only mandrakes that matured today," Professor Sprout said with a smile as she looked at Leonard. "Well done, Leonard. You have a very good eye."
"It's because you teach so well, Professor," Leonard said with a smile. "Is that it for today? Then I'll come help again tomorrow."
"No, no, no, child, that won't be necessary. I'll use magic on the rest and delay their maturity until the end of term. That way, you'll have exam material for this year."
Professor Sprout smiled like an old farmer harvesting a field of leeks, not the slightest bit embarrassed about squeezing labor out of her students.
Students were students, after all. If you did not use them, it was a waste.
"All right, child, now come with me and let's deliver these mandrakes to Professor Snape." As she spoke, Professor Sprout picked up part of the processed mandrakes.
Leonard nodded, gathered up the mandrakes Professor Sprout had prepared, and followed behind her toward Professor Snape's potions classroom.