Harry started brewing the Modified Wolfsbane Potion as soon as Sam returned with all the ingredients he had been sent to buy from Knockturn Alley. Sam handed over a sack filled with labeled vials, jars, pouches, and bottled essences—everything Harry had requested, all neatly wrapped and sealed.
When Harry arrived to collect them from Regina's shack, he noticed the place was unusually crowded again. A number of werewolves—both men and women—were gathered outside, and he immediately realized that they had come with the local ingredients he had asked them to gather earlier.
They had collected far too much, more than what was needed for a single brewing session. Some of it was still fresh, some half-dried, some properly wrapped in wax paper and tied with threads. But Harry didn't complain. Thanks to his Inventory, which offered unlimited storage, he accepted every single item and stored it away without issue.
The moment Harry started the brewing process inside his Instant Dungeon, which Harry consider as his Personal Dimension, the System kicked in with a stream of helpful notifications:
[New Crafting Process Detected: Modified Wolfsbane Potion]
Do you want to activate Guided Brewing Mode?
[Yes] / [No]
Harry selected [Yes], and immediately his mind filtered out all distractions. He was entirely focused. It was like he could see every step laid out before him in perfect clarity.
[Add base aconite extract – 2 spoonfuls]
[Stir clockwise 4 times. Maintain temperature at 67°C.]
[Next: Add powdered Moonpetal under soft violet flame.]
Every instruction appeared in real-time, with color-coded prompts, warnings for timing mistakes, and even visual bars that showed how close the potion was to perfection. Harry had brewed potions before—simple ones from the kit Arabella gave him—but this was on an entirely different level.
The entire brewing process was complex and delicate. Some ingredients needed to rest for 10 hours before the next step. Some required being added only at twilight. A few needed cooling to maintain magical potency. And one had to be dissolved under moonlight for exactly 47 seconds.
Harry set up timers, alarms, and used all his skills—Water Shield to control heat, Observe to double-check reactions, and his Gamer's Mind to make minor tweaks when things didn't look exactly right.
He didn't sleep properly for three whole days.
But on the dawn of the fourth day, Harry stood in front of a softly glowing cauldron. The potion shimmered with silver-blue ripples, a sign of correct magical binding.
[Potion Created: Modified Wolfsbane Potion – Grade A]
Effect: Suppresses transformation. Allows werewolf to retain full control. Transformation pain reduced to mild tingling.
Side Effects: None.
Doses Created: [20]
Skill Gained: [Potion Brewing Lv. 4 → Lv. 7]
EXP Gained: +500
Quest Complete!
Harry smiled as the notifications flooded his screen. This wasn't just a potion. This was hope.
And it was only the beginning.
The problem with the Wolfsbane Potion was its fleeting power—it lost its magical potency within just one day of brewing. That meant unless a werewolf took the potion right before the transformation, it became useless. This was the main reason so few werewolves actually benefited from it. Brewing it daily, in large quantities, and distributing it in time? Nearly impossible.
But Harry was not like other potion makers.
He had the [Inventory], a space untouched by time. Just like how he stored meats, potion ingredients, and magical items, Harry could now store Wolfsbane Potion inside the inventory and it would remain perfectly fresh and fully potent—forever.
So Harry started brewing. Again. And again.
He brewed without rest because the full moon was approaching, and there were already 22 werewolves relying on him. With each full moon lasting up to two to three nights, Harry calculated that he needed at least 66 doses just to meet the minimum need. But more werewolves would surely come, and he wanted to be prepared.
With his current setup—one large cauldron—he could only brew 20 doses in three days. That wasn't enough.
So Harry called Sam for help.
"Buy four more cauldrons exactly like the previous one," Harry told him. "Don't bring anything else. Just cauldrons."
Sam didn't argue. He knew time was short, and he had seen what Harry was capable of. He left at once for Knockturn Alley, pouch of galleons in hand.
If everything went according to plan, Harry would be able to brew 100 doses every three days—enough to keep up with demand, and stockpile for the future.
The moon was rising. The days were ticking down. And this time, no werewolf would suffer alone.
The following week was one of the most productive periods Harry had ever experienced.
Using the five cauldrons Sam brought, Harry brewed 140 doses of the modified Wolfsbane Potion, working almost nonstop. His inventory of magical ingredients, especially those Sam bought from Knockturn Alley, was nearly completely exhausted by the time he finished. But he had done it.
With only a few days left until the full moon, they were now fully prepared.
Through his research and system notifications, Harry discovered a key difference between the normal Wolfsbane and the modified version he brewed:
The original potion had to be consumed daily for seven consecutive days before the full moon to be effective but the modified Wolfsbane only required a single dose per full moon. That alone made it revolutionary. No missed doses. No failed transformations.
As Harry was finishing up the last batch, a system notification blinked before him:
[New Potion Discovered:]
Would you like to view brewing scroll for [Strengthening Draught]?
Harry accepted immediately.
The Strengthening Potion was designed to replenish energy and stabilize muscle fatigue, especially after a traumatic transformation. The system noted that this potion would boost stamina recovery, heal minor injuries, and restore clarity of mind—something the werewolves would definitely need each morning after the full moon.
It required no rare ingredients. Just those Harry still had: flobberworm mucus, dandelion root, ginseng, and powdered unicorn horn substitute (a legal Knockturn item).
Harry smiled.
If the Wolfsbane gave them control, this potion would help them recover.
He immediately began preparations to brew the first large batch, determined that no werewolf would suffer—not during the full moon, and not after it either.
The day of the full moon finally arrived. And just as Harry suspected, the number of werewolves who showed up wasn't twenty-two—it was thirty.
But Harry was ready.
He had brewed over a hundred doses of the modified Wolfsbane potion. He didn't care if ten more showed up, or even fifty. He had enough. By early evening, the crowd began gathering outside Regina's shack, the clearing already buzzing with tension, hope, and restrained fear.
Harry stood near the doorway, his arms crossed, his cloak fluttering in the evening breeze. He waited silently as the crowd settled.
Once everyone had arrived, Harry led all thirty of them through the forest path, heading to the same secluded clearing where he had first met Regina under the light of the moon.
Before anything began, Harry addressed the group. His voice was firm, clear, and left no room for argument.
"I told you all to bring an extra set of clothes. That wasn't a joke. You'll need them afterward."
"I've drawn a boundary around this entire clearing. Stay within it."
"Anyone who breaks that rule—anyone who steps out of the territory—will never receive this potion from me again."
Gasps, murmurs, and confused glances passed between the werewolves.
Harry's expression hardened.
"Understand this—when you're transformed and fully conscious, you're not just beasts anymore. You have memories, grudges, control."
"A wild werewolf doesn't hunt out its enemies. A conscious one can. And if someone uses this gift to take revenge or attack someone…"
"That's on me. And I won't let that happen."
There was silence after that. Respect. And just a little fear. Which Harry didn't mind.
He had earned their awe—not through age, but through strength.
The werewolves formed a line, silent and tense. One by one, Harry handed them a vial of the potion.
The potion smelled awful—like boiled metal and rotten seaweed—but no one complained. They had waited too long for this. Endured too much.
As they drank, Harry watched their faces twist at the taste. One man gagged. A younger woman winced and had to force it down. But they all finished.
For the first time in years, some of them would witness the full moon and remember every moment. They would no longer wake up with blood on their hands, or wake up in ditches or cells, covered in mud and wounds they didn't remember getting.
They would keep their minds.
And Harry would make sure they kept their promise too.
As twilight melted into night, nerves settled thickly over the clearing.
Despite having taken the potion, many werewolves kept glancing at Harry with anxiety in their eyes. Some whispered, others openly voiced it—they feared the potion might not work. For them, the full moon meant agony, blood, and blackouts. Trusting a young boy, no matter how powerful he seemed, felt like a leap too great.
Several werewolves urged Harry to stay far away, begging him to protect himself. If even one transformation went wrong, if one of them lost control—Harry would be in lethal danger. A single scratch or bite would be enough.
But Harry only gave a small smile, confidence etched into his features.
"I trust my brewing. And I trust all of you."
That said, he wasn't reckless. He climbed a tall tree, its wide branches offering a good vantage point. If things went south, he could activate [Wraith Flight] in a blink and vanish.
As the sky darkened, the clouds parted slowly, revealing the pale, glowing face of the full moon.
Far-off howls echoed through the woods—wild wolves responding to the call of the night. The werewolves below grew tense… but then, something extraordinary happened.
They began to shift.
Harry watched, eyes wide—not with fear, but with quiet amazement. There were no screams. The bones crunching loudly. The skin tearing. But no howling of pain.
Instead… it was smooth.
Harry saw some werewolves look down at their hands in mid-transformation, confused, as if expecting pain to come crashing in. Others turned to their companions in disbelief, silent questions in their glowing eyes.
They were now fully transformed—massive, furred, clawed, and fanged. But none of them snarled. None of them fought. They simply stood under the silver light, breathing, feeling, remembering.
For some of them, pain had been a constant companion for years—a torturer they could never escape. But now, for the first time, there was only… peace.
One werewolf tilted its head to the sky and let out a long, proud howl, not of rage, but of freedom.
Others followed.
Soon, the entire clearing was echoing with harmonious, defiant howls—not as monsters—but as beings finally taking back their minds, their dignity.
They didn't fight. They didn't growl.
Instead, they spent the night in a quiet camaraderie, sitting together, curling beside trees, even playfully wrestling without aggression. It was a strange, beautiful thing to behold.
Harry watched from the tree, his heart swelling with quiet pride.
One by one, the werewolves began to doze off, their massive forms relaxed under the silver moon.
Even Harry, with his back resting against the tree trunk, eyes scanning the moonlit glade, felt the weight of exhaustion press against his eyelids.
And with a soft yawn, he too fell asleep, high in the tree, surrounded not by monsters…
…but by people he had saved.
Harry woke up feeling stiff and sore, a dull ache in his shoulders and back. Before he could stretch or even blink properly, a familiar sound echoed in his ears — ding!
A glowing blue notification window hovered just above his face:
[You have slept on the ground]
[50% of HP and MP restored.]
He blinked at the message, groaning softly as he sat up. Only then did he realize — he was no longer on the tree branch.
Instead, he was lying on the forest floor, on a soft bundle of torn clothes, most likely the shredded remains of garments the werewolves had worn before transforming. He looked around, confused for a moment, and slowly pieced together what must have happened. They must've taken him down from the tree once the transformation ended… and laid him here, carefully, so he could rest too.
The morning light filtered through the trees, golden and warm. And around him, the clearing was alive with chatter and joy.
The werewolves — now back in their human forms — were talking animatedly, laughing, hugging, and sharing their experiences from the previous night. No one looked afraid. No one looked injured. For many, it was likely the first full moon where they weren't locked in a cage or chained in a cellar.
That's when Regina spotted Harry sitting up and immediately rushed toward him, eyes wide with joy.
"Harry!"
She threw her arms around him in a tight, grateful hug.
"You did it. You really did it."
Others soon followed. One by one, they came forward, surrounding him, offering their thanks, recounting their own stories of transformation. Excitement danced in their eyes, but Harry could also see the exhaustion in their postures — the way their shoulders sagged, their legs trembled, and some leaned on trees to stay upright.
And that's when Harry remembered.
Without saying a word, Harry opened his inventory and pulled out several glass vials — the [Strengthening Potion]. The moment he uncorked the first one, a sharp, minty aroma filled the clearing. He handed them out carefully, one by one, explaining how it worked.
"Drink it. It'll clear your fatigue. You'll feel better instantly."
And just like that, the weariness vanished from their faces. In seconds, color returned to their cheeks, and their postures straightened. Some gasped, some cheered. A few even cried silently, overwhelmed by the fact that after a full moon — for once — they didn't feel like their bones had been shattered.
One man, wiping tears from his eyes, looked at Harry and said:
"If we had this every month… we could live normal lives."
More murmurs followed — hope blooming rapidly among the crowd. Many of them had tried working in the Muggle world before, only to be fired because they couldn't work for three or four days every full moon, too weak to stand, their bodies in agony. No employer would tolerate that kind of absence.
But now? If they could drink both potions every month, they could apply for jobs again. They could be bakers, tailors, shop clerks, street sweepers—anything. They wouldn't have to lie or hide.
"We can live again," someone whispered.
Harry stood silently in the middle of it all, watching the ripples of joy and hope spread like wildfire. It was overwhelming. In just a few days, he had changed the lives of dozens.