Chapter 92: New Wolves
At breakfast the next day, Artel noticed Dumbledore leaving Hogwarts. Suspecting that Newt might have discovered something, he called Dumbledore aside.
To verify his suspicions, after finishing breakfast, Artel returned to the dormitory and retrieved the Isil spar. His assumptions proved correct—Dumbledore and Newt, accompanied by Lupin and several other Order of the Phoenix members, were currently in the Congo Basin.
Deep within the Congo Basin, Newt Scamander unearthed a rare plant mutation, its magical essence resonating with the untamed energy of the enchanted wilderness. As he delved into the heart of the mystical realm, his keen eyes beheld more than the wonders of flora; he discovered an ancient Balrog concealed in the subterranean depths of an underground river. Despite his naturalist curiosity, Newt, wise and seasoned by years of magical creature encounters, refrained from approaching the creature, acknowledging the overwhelming power that lay dormant within.
The report of Newt's extraordinary findings reached Dumbledore's ears like an echo from the unexplored corners of the magical world. With swift determination, the venerable headmaster summoned the members of the Order of the Phoenix.
Putting away the Isil spar, Artel seized the opportunity in Dumbledore's absence to venture into the Forbidden Forest and collect the wolf cubs. Although he had been unable to do so earlier due to various reasons, the current circumstances presented a perfect opportunity.
Wearing the Rings of Power and Air, Artel quietly approached the Forbidden Forest. The barrier, previously damaged by Artel, had been repaired by Dumbledore. Additionally, two Ministry of Magic Aurors guarded the entrance. However, Artel had a plan. Finding a secluded spot, he consumed an animal transformation potion, turning into a sparrow, and confidently entered the Forbidden Forest.
In the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts, a community of werewolf descendants existed—offspring born to a wizard with lycanthropy and an ordinary wolf on a full moon night. Despite their bestial nature, these descendants possessed high intelligence, making them ideal candidates for the potent Orc Elixir.
After searching for half an hour, Artel discovered the werewolf descendants in a cave distant from Shelob's lair. Approximately fifty descendants resided there.
These werewolf descendants, larger than typical wild wolves, boasted a more ferocious appearance with sharp teeth and claws, emanating a formidable and intimidating aura.
Observing their organized actions and clear communication, Artel devised a plan. He transformed into Saruman and materialized before them.
"Ow~.~"
The werewolf descendants issued a warning, with adult males stepping forward, baring their fangs and claws at Artel. Despite their fierce appearance, Artel detected fear in their eyes.
Yes, these creatures recognized wizards and harbored a deep-seated fear of them.
"Take it easy, kids."
Artel waved his hand, and the scepter emitted a soft white light, calming the emotions of the wolf cubs.
"I will bring you strength, honor, and a new life..."
Artel smiled, raising his hand. The power of the air ring activated, and under the violent fluctuations of the air element, the nearest and most powerful werewolf descendant succumbed to magical control. It floated upward and then glided in front of Artel.
"Woooo-"
As the other werewolf descendants witnessed their leader being controlled, they all lowered their heads, exposing their sharp fangs and emitting threatening whimpers from their mouths—a collective display that hinted at an imminent pounce.
Undeterred, Artel remained unperturbed, sensing the inner turmoil of the werewolf descendant under magical control.
"Calm down!"
Artel's old, commanding voice, infused with a unique magical force, echoed. The struggling leader froze abruptly, ceasing its agitated movements.
"Good boy. You'll thank me," Artel whispered, producing a bottle of potent orc potion.
Two days prior, he had created numerous low-level orcs using mice, rabbits, and other animals at home. Subsequently, he harvested their souls to concoct ten bottles of powerful orc potions. Including the one he made at school, he now possessed eleven bottles. Although his current materials could yield hundreds of these potions, the process was time-consuming.
As Artel unveiled the potent orc potion, the werewolf descendants went into a frenzy. Their gaze fixated on the elixir with a longing akin to amethysts, and drool trickled from their mouths.
It was as if the potion was an unrivaled delicacy, an irresistible allure to them.
The wolf hovering in front of Artel emitted a whimper, transformed from a menacing threat into a sound of pleasure, reminiscent of when Artel fed Charlie beef.
Artel smiled and gestured. Guided by his control, the potent orc potion floated towards the wolf's mouth and was ingested.
"Woooo-"
The other werewolf descendants seemed uneasy, their limbs instinctively rubbing against the ground.
.....
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