Harry arrived at Regina's shack just as the sun was setting behind the trees, casting long shadows across the forest. But something was different this time.
The area around the shack was crowded.
Dozens of people were gathered outside—both men and women. Their appearances were rough, ragged, and feral. They wore torn clothing, cloaks patched up with whatever scraps they could find, and most of them had sharp, untrusting eyes. A few even growled under their breath, and Harry saw long scars on some of their exposed arms. Every one of them looked ready to pounce if provoked.
Harry paused at the edge of the clearing, unsure. His hand instinctively hovered near his inventory area.
Were they here for a meeting?
Were they Regina's pack?
Or… were they here to rob him?
Just as suspicion and caution crept into his heart, Regina spotted him and rushed through the crowd.
"There you are!" she called out, relief on her face. She took his hand and pulled him in past the wary stares. "Don't worry. They're not here to hurt you."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Then why are there so many of them?"
"They came to see you," Regina said. "They heard about wizard who's going to brew Wolfsbane Potion for them."
Harry blinked. "They… came for me?"
Regina nodded. "Word spreads fast, especially when it's something this important."
Before Harry could react, she pulled him through the crowd toward the shack, introducing him as they went.
"This is him," she said to the group, who all went quiet. "This is Harry."
The silence was thick.
The werewolves stared at Harry. Their expressions turned from curiosity to disappointment. He could see it clearly on their faces—frowns, furrowed brows, a few raised brows of disbelief.
"That's him?" someone whispered.
"He's just a boy…" another muttered.
They were expecting someone older. Someone who looked powerful. A man, perhaps a battle-hardened wizard with a long beard and magic staff. Not a boy who wasn't even old enough to attend Hogwarts.
They had come to see the one who subdued a werewolf on a full moon night with nothing but wit and magic. And what they got… was Harry.
Harry didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He had seen that look before.
Regina noticed the tension and quickly pulled him inside.
"Come on," she said. "Ignore them. They'll understand eventually."
She led him through the shack and into her small, creaky bedroom. Harry's eyes immediately landed on what sat in the corner—
A massive black iron cauldron.
Next to it was a clutter of brewing equipment: vials, measuring scales, stirrers, and ladles. Everything looked secondhand, but it was real. It would work.
As Harry stepped closer, another man entered behind them.
He was tall, with a thick beard and long arms, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His presence was calm, but Harry could tell he was someone respected among the others.
"This is Sam Keller," Regina introduced. "The one I mentioned."
Sam nodded and handed Harry a folded piece of parchment. "This is the recipe. I got it from someone in Knockturn Alley. Don't know if it's real or not. Can't read half of it."
Harry took it and used [Observe] instantly.
[Item: Wolfsbane Potion Recipe]
[Effect: Brewing this potion allows a werewolf to retain their human mind during transformation. Highly difficult to brew.]
"It's real," Harry said after a moment, folding it neatly.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"I'm sure."
Sam gave a quiet nod of approval, and Regina exhaled in relief.
Harry walked into Regina's small bedroom, looked at the massive cauldron in the corner, along with all the potion-making equipment, and without saying a single word—he raised his hand and silently placed everything into his inventory.
The heavy iron cauldron shimmered once and disappeared. The stirring rod, the heating plate, the ingredient jars—each item vanished with a soft blink. The werewolves standing near the door fell silent. Some gasped. Others leaned forward, their eyes widening. They weren't sure what just happened, and Harry didn't explain it.
He only gave a slight nod and stood still, letting the silence do the work.
Whispers started among the group. A few of them began muttering to each other, finally taking Harry a little more seriously. It wasn't just talk anymore—he was doing things no ordinary wizard boy could.
From the looks on their faces, Harry could tell many of them were still starving. Some were too thin. Some had the tired look of people who had gone too long without a proper meal. Seeing this, Harry opened his inventory again, pulled out a couple of large hams, and handed them to Regina.
The moment she took them, a loud cheer broke out.
People clapped, some whistled, some slapped each other on the back. There was a real smile on their faces now, the kind that comes from a little bit of hope.
Regina and a few others hurried toward the tiny kitchen, their ragged robes flapping behind them. Others started setting up a few old tables, pulling out firewood and makeshift pots.
But Harry didn't stop.
He turned to one of the older werewolves standing nearby and asked,
"Which way's the nearest town?"
The man blinked, then raised a hand and pointed west.
Harry nodded once and shot into the air using [Wraith Flight], disappearing in a flash of black mist. In less than ten minutes, he was back—holding several large loaves of bread under one arm, a sack of potatoes in the other, and fresh vegetables tucked into his cloak.
People turned to stare. They didn't see him leave—they just saw him vanish and return with food. Someone muttered, "He really is powerful."
Harry gave the supplies to Regina, rolled up his sleeves, and walked into the kitchen himself.
He didn't ask permission. He just started working.
Chopping. Boiling. Stirring. Roasting the ham with herbs he picked himself days ago. It was the first time he was cooking for someone other than the Dursleys, and oddly, it felt... good. No insults. No shouting. No being told to clean up the mess.
Only quiet appreciation.
More and more people came to the kitchen entrance, peeking in. Harry didn't mind. His cooking skill was already high from the system, and it showed. The smell alone made a few mouths water. Some even whispered to each other how they hadn't smelled something like this in years.
"He's really good at this," someone said.
"If he cooks potions like he cooks meat…" another muttered.
"I'd follow him just for dinner," someone else joked.
Finally, the food was served. Dozens of hungry werewolves sat down with plates full of hot food. The hams were juicy. The bread was soft and warm. The vegetables were spiced just right.
For most of them, it was the best meal they ever had.
And for Harry, it was the most appreciated one he had ever made.
He sat at the edge, drinking a small cup of warm broth and watching as the crowd laughed, shared stories, and—just for tonight—acted like normal people.
He didn't need praise. Just seeing them full and happy was enough.
As the moon started to rise, Harry stood up, gave Regina a nod, and stepped out.
He activated [Wraith Flight] again, flying above the trees, heading back to Privet Drive.
He already knew what was waiting for him.
Vernon was probably pacing in the living room. Petunia clutching her pearls. Dudley halfway through Harry's portion of dinner.
Harry didn't care.
He was full. His inventory had more meat than a butcher's shop. He had people who looked up to him now. People who needed him.
And tonight—for the first time—he had made a real difference.
Harry read and reread the notes, carefully copying every line into his private journal — the one he only wrote the most important things in. He knew he could absorb the content instantly through the system, but this knowledge felt sacred. It was different. It wasn't about power or combat. It was about healing. About dignity.
When he finally finished copying the last line, a familiar window blinked in front of him.
[Would you like to absorb the content of this scroll?]
[Yes / No]
Harry stared at it for a long moment, then clicked Yes.
The parchment burst into magical flames, disappearing into particles of light. A second window appeared immediately after.
[You have learned a new potion recipe: Wolfsbane Potion]
[Would you like to review modified formula options?]
Harry tapped the new notification and his eyes widened at what he saw. The system had cataloged an improved version of the Wolfsbane Potion.
Unlike the original brew, which only gave the werewolf control while still forcing them through horrific pain — cracked bones, torn muscles, ripped skin — the modified Wolfsbane had a completely different effect.
The system displayed the change clearly:
[Modified Wolfsbane Potion]
Effect: Grants complete transformation control to werewolves during full moon
Bonus Effect: Transformation is painless, described as a tingling sensation instead of agony
Additional Ingredients Required: Silverleaf Essence, Fire Poppy Resin, Dreamroot Powder, A drop of Werewolf Blood
Brewing Time: Extended to 9 hours
Brewing Difficulty: [Advanced-Level Potion Mastery Required]
Side Effects: None known
Harry didn't even hesitate. He clicked Accept Modified Recipe and confirmed it again.
[Modified Wolfsbane Potion has been added to your potion list]
He exhaled slowly, staring at the journal filled with the old notes.
"No more painful transformations," he whispered to himself, closing the book gently. "I'll give them back their lives."
The thought of Regina, Sam, and the dozens of hungry, desperate faces filled his mind. For the first time in a long time, Harry felt like he was doing something truly meaningful.
Not fighting for XP.
Not leveling up.
Not gathering loot.
Just doing the right thing.
And that felt better than anything else.
Harry needed twenty-three ingredients to brew the Modified Wolfsbane Potion, and thankfully, he already had more than enough aconite, the base and most essential component. His inventory also held eleven other potion ingredients, most of which he had gathered locally—through quests, wild collections. However, some of the rarer magical ingredients couldn't be found in the Muggle world. They had to be purchased in the wizarding world, either through Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley, and would cost a decent amount of Galleons.
Harry arrived at Regina's place, landing silently near the clearing. He noticed immediately that she wasn't alone—there were half a dozen werewolves sitting around the broken porch, some leaning against trees, some helping fix a hole in the outer wall. Most of them looked rough around the edges—clothes torn, eyes tired—but there was a warmth in the air that hadn't been there before.
Regina saw Harry and waved him in immediately.
"I've been lonely for so long," she said with a small smile. "But now… people just show up. They ask about the potion, ask if I need help. Or if you do."
Harry was quietly surprised but also glad. These people had endured so much, and for once, they had hope.
Harry sat down with the group and got straight to the point.
"There's one ingredient we'll need right now," he said, his tone serious. "We need the blood of a male werewolf. Fresh. Voluntarily given. No magical corruption or sickness."
Not one of them hesitated.
"Take mine," said a burly man with shaggy brown hair. "You're making the potion. It's the least I can do."
Others nodded in agreement.
Harry didn't draw the blood immediately. He needed the proper vial and preservation charm to keep it stable before brewing—but the willingness shown by the group gave him more motivation than ever.
Next, Harry pulled out a rolled-up parchment from his journal. It was the list of remaining ingredients, the ones that couldn't be found in a regular forest. He handed it to Regina.
"Give this to Sam," Harry said, "and tell him to use this." He took out a pouch containing 90 Galleons, heavy with gold. "Ask him to get everything on this list as fast as possible. If the money's not enough, I'll get more."
Regina nodded, pocketing the parchment with care. "Sam goes to Knockturn Alley in two days. I'll make sure he leaves with this."
After that, Harry stepped outside and addressed the gathered werewolves.
"There are more ingredients we need. Most can be found in the wild, but they're rare and scattered."
He conjured a magical projection of the map, showing glowing dots within a ten-mile radius. These were the areas marked by the system where potion ingredients were most likely to be found.
"If you want to help," Harry said, pointing at the glowing areas, "focus on these locations. Bring anything that smells strange, glows, oozes sap, or changes color in the sun. I'll sort it all out later."
The werewolves looked at each other, then gave solemn nods. They were warriors, hunters by nature. For once, their instincts would be used to save their own kind.
Harry left not long after, diving back into the sky using Wraith Flight, heading into the forest to gather ingredients of his own—grateful that he wasn't doing this alone anymore.