"I'm finally safe," Basil thought, leaning comfortably against the window sill.
Standing there, he found himself hoping Fenrir would show up, drawn by the light of the treehouse.
Just like other ancient wizarding families that passed down specific talents or magical traditions, the Grangers had a specialty: infusing magic into plants.
This giant redwood tree had been planted by his grandfather's grandfather. And planted right along with it were spells that grew as the tree grew: fire resistance, durability, a frictionless bark surface, anti-flight zones, anti-Apparition wards, and malice detection.
His owl, Fanta, and other birds could fly near it because they bore no ill will. Plus, Fanta was family.
Greyback was a Death Eater, so he likely knew how to fly as black smoke (like in the movies, since Basil hadn't read the books). But with malice in his heart, he wouldn't be able to reach the treehouse that way. Not even a broomstick would work.
The frictionless bark meant he couldn't climb up, either.
And even if something went wrong—like someone coming through the Floo Network-connected fireplace—Basil still had his Portkey ready for an instant escape.
And...
The moment he sent that letter, something shifted.
Gems: 510.841 (+1000)
This massive jump meant that, according to the world's judgment, the timeline had just undergone a significant deviation. It was proof that he had successfully altered his fate.
Surviving Greyback's attack was now a set fact.
He looked down at the redwood tree and blinked.
Click.
A moving image of the redwood appeared on the third page of his Magic Book.
However, the card was greyed out.
[Cost: 10,000 Gems]
[FAILED! Insufficient Gem Balance.]
"Damn it! What the hell?!"
Basil was startled at first, but then he looked the tree up and down with new appreciation.
"If it's that powerful... maybe..." Basil placed his hand on the railing woven from living branches and closed his eyes.
"Maybe I can turn the tables!"
In that moment, the redwood tree felt like an extension of his own body. The treehouse wasn't just a shelter; it was his fortress, his workshop.
His senses traveled down the roots, deep into the earth.
A rhythmic vibration was approaching from the distance. Thump. Thump. Thump.
"It's Greyback!"
Amplified by the redwood, his [Plant Affinity] expanded rapidly.
It wasn't just the tree anymore. The shrubs on the ground, the wild grass—they all became his hands, his feet, his eyes.
Even though the intruder was still hundreds of meters away, once Basil locked onto the vibrations, everything about the 'guest' appeared in his mind's eye.
It was definitely a person.
Though he ran on all fours like a beast, baring sharp teeth and long yellow nails, and occasionally letting out a raspy, ear-piercing roar... he was still human in form.
Long limbs, matted gray hair and beard tangled together, and loose black robes uncomfortably strained against his body.
As Basil focused harder, he could practically 'see' the bloody drool dripping from those fangs.
Clearly, Greyback was expecting a feast.
He looked nothing like the movie version. He wasn't a slightly chubby man with a receding hairline and an open shirt.
He also didn't look like the game version.
"Tch. I really should have read the books," Basil clicked his tongue in annoyance.
His advantage of 'knowing the future' was effectively cut in half. He had been too busy running for his life earlier to notice.
A particularly unpleasant memory surfaced—his grandmother, her dark brown eyes twinkling with sadistic glee as she told him bedtime horror stories.
"Fenrir Greyback... he is the most savage werewolf alive. He positions himself near his victims before the full moon to ensure he can strike the moment he turns. But even when the moon isn't full, he bites. He has a taste for human flesh."
"And I'm the main course?" Basil's expression darkened.
He could 'smell' the pungent stench radiating from Greyback—a mix of dirt, sweat, the distinct odor of photinia flowers (if you know, you know), and the undeniable metallic tang of blood.
Basil raised an eyebrow. "Fenrir Greyback, you have chosen death!"
Killing intent stirred his mana. A lush, fresh, and vibrant life force began to radiate from his body.
Every plant touched by this aura became an extension of his will.
Sturdy branches turned into flexible vines. Fragile blades of grass sharpened into blades. The shrubbery glinted with a metallic sheen.
In his mind, the [Magic Book] flipped to the second page automatically.
Everything was ready. He just needed Greyback to step into the trap.
Still, even with victory all but assured, Basil kept his left hand hovering over the golden book sculpture. He was ready to port out instantly if things went south.
---
Drinking blood and eating flesh... in magic, this was an act of stealing power.
Especially the flesh of wizards. That was a rare delicacy.
Usually, for sustainability, Fenrir stopped at drinking blood. He would infect children, take them in, and feed on them occasionally. This allowed him to maintain a werewolf's physique even when it wasn't a full moon.
That was why he preferred using his body rather than a wand against weak wizards.
But ever since the Dark Lord fell, his opportunities to hunt wizards had dwindled to almost nothing. He had been forced to rely on lost orphans to satisfy his cravings.
And eating them whole? That was a luxury he hadn't had in years.
But today was different. He had been given permission. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
That slender, tender neck... the beautiful juice that would spray out when he tore out the throat... the helpless twitching of the body...
It's going to be amazing!
He's going to taste so good!
Heh heh! Heh heh! Heh heh heh!
No, stop it. I can't get too excited or I'll trip.
"Finally here."
Fenrir crouched low, muscles in his legs coiled tight, hiding behind a bush ready to pounce.
Looking up at the silhouette in the warm light...
Drool flowed freely down Fenrir's chin.
He had already pictured the boy perfectly in his mind. Brilliant blonde hair, skin so pale it looked like it would bruise at a touch, blue eyes.
He would look even more delicious in the dark.
This time, I won't let him get away like he did this afternoon!
Fenrir wiggled his butt, prepping for the launch.
Inside the treehouse, Basil gagged.
"Little beauty, Daddy's coming!"
Fenrir roared internally and leaped, extending his claws to dig into the tree bark for leverage.
"What the—?!"
His claws, sharp enough to slice through gold and jade, skidded harmlessly off the bark as if it were polished glass.
He spun out of control in mid-air.
Twisting his waist, he tried to use his core strength to land safely.
But then, a horrifying scene unfolded.
The branches of the redwood tree rained down like arrows—no, like snakes striking.
In the nick of time, under the waning moon, his left leg became a blur as he kicked hard against the tree trunk, propelling himself backward to dodge the initial barrage.
Relying on pure savage instinct and combat experience, he found a landing spot—a soft patch of bushes.
His right hand reached into his robes, grasping for his wand.
"ARGH!" Fenrir screamed.
The bushes behind him had turned into iron thorns, shredding his back. The grass on the ground had become razor-sharp, slicing through his thighs and Achilles tendons.
"Blue Silv— Ptui! I mean, Devil's Snare Bind!"
A vibrant, youthful voice rang out from above.
Fenrir didn't even have time to be confused. In the blink of an eye, a blue light flashed.
Vines erupted from the grass, wrapping tightly around his right hand.
It stopped him from drawing his wand and pinned him in place.
Thousands of branches plunged down from above, avoiding his vital organs but piercing through his limbs!
Crunch!
One particularly vindictive root shattered his "family jewels."
Snap!
His right hand snapped as the Devil's Snare tightened its grip.
Beneath the towering redwood tree, the only sound left was the werewolf's agonizing, sobbing wails.
"Now you know who's boss, huh?" Basil smirked, looking down. "Call me Daddy... actually, no, that's gross. Call me Lord Granger. Now speak! Who sent you?!"
"D-Daddy... no! Aaaargh! Lord Granger! Please!"
---