Meeting Regina Brent changed something deep inside Harry.
He had always thought the wizarding world, though hidden, must be better than the one he lived in. That it must be just and noble, full of people like his parents who fought for good. But what he learned from Regina shattered that illusion.
The truth was, the wizarding government didn't just ignore werewolves—they oppressed them.
They were hunted, hated, and thrown out of society. And all because of something they couldn't control. Regina told him everything, her eyes bitter with experience. Werewolves were only dangerous for a few days during the full moon. The rest of the month, they were just people—frightened, lonely people forced into the shadows. Even though there existed a potion—the Wolfsbane Potion—that could give them full control over their minds during their transformation, it was expensive, hard to brew, and nearly impossible to get. Most werewolves couldn't afford it, and even if they could, few apothecaries were willing to sell to them.
The government could've stepped in.
They could have brewed Wolfsbane in bulk and handed it out freely during the full moon. They could've funded education, jobs, housing for werewolves. But they didn't.
Instead, they chose fear over compassion. Oppression over help.
Harry clenched his fists when he heard it all. It felt so wrong. So stupid. So cruel.
All his life, people had treated him like trash because of things beyond his control. But this was worse. Regina hadn't done anything wrong. She just had bad luck. And because of that, she was forced to live a life of hiding and fear.
He would change this.
He didn't know how, or when, or what it would cost him. But he would. He'd learn to brew Wolfsbane Potion. He'd find werewolves. He'd give them potions that is going to change their life.
Because the wizarding world might be full of cowards…
But Harry wasn't one of them.
It was one of the rare times Harry used Wraith Flight in broad daylight.
He soared over rooftops and through trees, the wind rushing past him as he retraced the path Regina had pointed out the night before. The light of day made everything seem less threatening, but it also revealed just how poor the area really was. Before long, he arrived at a crooked, worn-down shack nestled at the edge of the woods, hidden away like a secret no one wanted to acknowledge.
Harry landed softly, his boots touching the dirt just outside the front step. He walked up and knocked.
There was no immediate answer.
Then he noticed movement behind the grimy curtain of a cracked window. A familiar pair of cautious eyes peeked out. Once Regina confirmed it was Harry, she quickly unlocked the door and waved him in.
Inside, the shack was even worse than it looked from outside. The furniture was sparse, the wood panels rotting in places, and the air smelled faintly of damp earth. Regina was visibly weaker in her human form—thinner, slower, without the aura of strength she carried as a werewolf. It struck Harry hard just how vulnerable she really was… and how easily someone could take advantage of her.
"I'm glad you came back," Regina said softly, offering him a chipped mug of tea.
Harry didn't sit.
"I want to help werewolves," he said plainly. "And for that, I need to start by learning how to brew Wolfsbane Potion. I need everything—ingredients, equipment, and the recipe."
Regina's eyes widened. "That's... ambitious. It'll be expensive, Harry. Wolfsbane isn't a simple potion. And the ingredients… Merlin, they'll be tracked too. And the equipment? We're not talking about school supplies here."
Harry nodded. "I have over 200 Galleons in my vault," he said. "I'm willing to spend it. If it helps people like you stay safe."
Regina stared at him for a moment, speechless. Then she smiled—a real one, with both sadness and gratitude.
"I know someone," she said. "He goes to Knockturn Alley every few days. He's a werewolf too. He's trustworthy. He won't rat us out."
Without a word, Harry opened his Inventory, pulled out a pouch, and counted out 50 Galleons into it. He placed the pouch in her hands.
"Give this to your friend," Harry said. "Tell him to buy the Wolfsbane recipe. And with whatever's left, get a proper cauldron, and whatever other brewing tools I'll need."
Regina looked like she might cry.
"You're serious," she whispered. "You really want to do this?"
Harry nodded. "I'm not like them. I'm not the Ministry. I'm me."
He stepped back outside, ready to leave.
"I'll be back in ten days," he promised. "Be safe. And if you need anything, contact me in this address." Harry gave the address of Arabella Figg.
And with that, he vanished into the sky, flying high and fast, already thinking of how many people he could help next.
Harry had started accepting every single quest the system offered—yes, even the ones he used to reject as boring or low-reward. It wasn't about leveling up anymore.
It was about the mission.
The one he had given himself.
Helping werewolves. Brewing Wolfsbane. Buying ingredients. Getting equipment. Maybe even helping others like Regina. And that meant he needed money. More than he had. More than he could imagine needing. So every copper, every scrap, every item had value now.
He was currently on his last quest of the day: catching a rare magical frog called the Greydot Frog. It was a slippery little thing that lived in muddy, waterlogged terrain, and Harry had spent the past hour chasing after flashes of greenish-grey through swamps and marshy puddles. According to the system, Greydot Frogs were valuable potion ingredients—used in anything from paralysis draughts to advanced vitality tonics.
And he almost caught it.
Almost.
But instead of a frog, Harry found himself face-to-face with something much larger—and much angrier.
A boar.
A big one.
His [Observe] skill activated immediately.
[Enemy: Rabid Boar]
[Level: 6]
[Status: Hostile]
[Danger Level: Medium]
The beast snorted and scraped the muddy ground with its hoof, foam dripping from its mouth, eyes bloodshot. It was already charging before Harry could even blink.
"Wind Step!" he shouted, his body flickering to the left as the boar missed him by inches and rammed into a tree instead.
Harry drew his new Mithril Sword, the blade humming slightly with power. This was its first real test.
The sword cut through the air with terrifying speed. One critical hit and the boar's health bar dropped by half. Two more strikes, quick and clean, and the boar collapsed with a final grunt. Then, like all defeated dungeon creatures, it dissolved into particles of light—leaving behind its loot.
[Loot Obtained: Rabid Boar Tusks ×2, Boarhide Scraps ×3, Fresh Wild Ham ×2]
Harry blinked at the last item.
He hadn't had meat in weeks.
He grinned.
That confirmed it. Somewhere nearby—there had to be a dungeon. Probably a beast-type or hunting-type dungeon. And dungeons always had better loot the deeper you went.
For the first time in a long while, Harry's stomach rumbled. And he didn't feel guilty about it.
"Meat," he whispered with a smile. "Lots and lots of meat."
It wasn't hard for Harry to find the entrance to the boar dungeon. All he had to do was track the hoofprints left behind by the Rabid Boar he had just killed. The trail led deeper into the forest, until he found a moss-covered stone archway—half-sunken in vines and mud.
The moment Harry stepped through the threshold, the system greeted him with a familiar chime.
[Dungeon Entered: Hollow Tusks – Boar Den]
[Objective: Clear all Chambers]
[Bonus Objective: Slay the King Boar]
And before he could even orient himself, the first chamber exploded with movement.
A horde of boar pups—dozens of squealing, mud-caked, tiny boars—rushed at him from all directions. They were no bigger than a housecat, and honestly… kind of cute.
"Why are you guys so cute and so annoying at the same time?" Harry muttered.
He didn't want to kill them. But they were persistent—biting at his boots, headbutting his knees, refusing to let up.
So Harry drew his blade—not to smash or burn, but to end it quickly. Cleanly.
Ten minutes later, the floor was a scene out of a horror movie—blood, mud, and claw marks everywhere. The pups dissolved into light and dropped various types of pork.
Loot: Pork Belly ×26, Bacon Strips ×18, Pig Trotters ×24, Tenderloin ×23]
The next room reeked of wet fur and danger.
Thirteen Rabid Boars stood in a wide arena, snorting steam, eyes glowing red. They were not cute. They were angry, fast, and strong.
Close combat was suicide.
Harry flew up using [Wraith Flight], dodged charges with [Wind Step], and launched [Bone Spears] from above. Occasionally, he dropped between two charging boars and blinked away at the last second, watching them crash into each other in confusion.
The chaos worked. Eventually, the room fell silent—except for the ping of new loot.
[Loot Obtained:]
Rabid Boar Ham ×26
Boarhide Scraps ×13
Boar Tusk Dagger ×1
[Gold: +65 Galleons]
The last room was massive.
Dozens of stone pillars held up a crumbling ceiling. The ground was flooded in knee-deep water, and the air was heavy with moisture and tension.
From the far end of the room emerged a beast the size of a bison—twice as wide, armored in grey tusks and bristling hair. Its eyes locked onto Harry.
[King Boar – Level 12 – Dungeon Boss]
It charged.
Harry had no time to move.
"Water Shield!" he yelled, just before the impact. The beast slammed into him, and even through the barrier, Harry was sent flying—smashing through water and air like a ragdoll.
[-20 HP]
He coughed, spat muddy water, and pulled himself up.
The King Boar was charging again.
Harry dodged behind a pillar. The boar crashed into it, dazed by falling stones. He took the chance and blasted it with [Fireball], followed by a piercing [Bone Spear].
He repeated the tactic—bait, dodge, blast—over and over.
The beast's HP dropped bit by bit.
Finally, when its health was nearly gone, Harry flew up with [Wraith Flight], soared over the beast, and plunged his Mithril Sword into the King Boar's skull.
The beast collapsed.
[Boss Defeated: King Boar]
[Level Up! Harry James Potter is now Level 10!]
But unlike the others, the King Boar didn't dissolve.
It changed.
Its body separated cleanly into massive meat cuts and valuable drops:
[Boss Loot – King Boar]
King Boar Ham ×2
King Boar Loin ×4
Boar Belly ×4
King Boar Shoulder ×2
[Item: King Boar Hide] – Extremely durable, magic-resistant material
[Item: Draught of Ferocity ×3] – Temporarily boosts Strength & Endurance
[Item: Tuskbreaker – Rare Mace – Strength +5, Special: Shatter Effect on Armor]
[Item: King Boar Fang – Material for crafting or enchanting]
[Gold: +200 Galleons]
Harry packed everything into his inventory with a wide grin.
He now had enough meat to last him years, new powerful loot, and—more importantly—he had just leveled up.
He raised his hand, and the Status Window appeared.
[Name: Harry James Potter]
[Level: 11]
[EXP: 0 / 1100]
[Class: Wizard → Class Specialization Available]
[Title: The Dead Killer]
[HP: 420 / 420]
[MP: 720 / 720]
[Stamina: 260 / 260]
[Strength: 20]
[Dexterity: 21]
[Intelligence: 29]
[Wisdom: 24]
[Endurance: 24]
[Luck: 19]
[Charisma: 12]
[Currency: £: 180 / G: 494 / S: 8]
[Skill List]
[Shadow Veil] – Lv. 7]
[Death Ward] – Lv. 5]
[Soul Drain] – Lv. 3]
[Bone Spear] – Lv. 5]
[Wraith Flight] – Lv. 9]
[Wind Step] – Lv. 8]
[Poison Mist Attack] – Lv. 6]
[Fireball] – Lv. 7]
[Water Shield] – Lv. 6]
[Observe] – Lv. 7]
[ID Create] – Lv. 4]
[ID Escape] – Lv. 4]
[Stat Points to Distribute: 15]
Harry went to the market the next day, the wind cold against his face as he moved through the crowded street. He wore his hood low, not wanting anyone to recognize him or his strange cloak. He had made a decision. He was running short on Muggle money, and as much as he wanted to keep all the boar meat for himself, he knew it was time to sell some of the excess.
He found a decent butcher stall at the edge of the Muggle market. The man there had a thick moustache and a sharp eye. After a bit of haggling, Harry managed to strike a fair deal—2.5 pounds per kilogram. It wasn't bad, considering he had more meat than most farms.
Harry sold a hundred kilos of meat that day. Most of it was from the baby boars—the boar pups he didn't want to eat. They were small and cute, and the thought of feasting on them made him feel strange. Along with that, he sold four hams from the adult rabid boars, still fresh and perfectly preserved inside his inventory. The butcher weighed everything with wide eyes, clearly impressed.
After the transaction, Harry pocketed a total of £250 in crisp notes. That amount was more than enough for what he needed next.
With his money secured, Harry walked out of the market with renewed purpose. His boots splashed through a puddle as he reached a quiet alleyway and activated his [Wraith Flight] ability. Shadows curled around him, and he soared up into the sky like a dark blur, heading straight for Regina's forest shack.
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