When they finally reached the dark mouth of the cave, Victor lightly leaped from the monster's scaly head onto the ground. To be honest, he was thoroughly surprised. He hadn't expected there to be no guard whatsoever at the entrance—neither disguised posts nor ordinary sentries.
— Hm, strange, — Victor muttered, inspecting the empty passage. — Is really no one going to greet us? Do you think they already found out about Fenrir's death and scattered in panic? — But the snake still didn't answer. — Hey, are you even listening to me?
The basilisk finally reluctantly tore itself away from its thoughts and hissed back:
— Ah, master, forgive me... I am so hungry! I feel them, they are down there, deep underground. Please, hurry, let's hurry!
With that, the giant serpent began to wag the tip of its tail impatiently from side to side, for all the world like a friendly puppy in front of a bowl of food.
Victor merely shook his head and, with a sigh, turned his gaze back into the depths of the cave. He would have felt much calmer if they had to fight their way inside—silence always boded trouble.
— Oh well, let's go.
Victor stepped confidently beneath the stone vaults, and the basilisk obediently slithered after him. The passage proved a bit narrow for the serpent's colossal body, so it had to literally widen it with its own frame. What truly amazed Victor was how the basilisk moved: despite crushing stones and pushing aside tons of earth, it all happened practically soundlessly, producing only a barely audible, hypnotic rustle of scales.
However, the further they walked, the deeper Victor frowned. Around them was absolutely nothing except an endless, convoluted network of forks. If not for the basilisk guiding him, he probably would have given up and turned back long ago.
At last, distant, echoing voices reached his sharp ears.
Heading toward the sound, Victor noticed that the wild cave was gradually giving way to a roughly hewn stone corridor whose walls were lit by torches.
— Well, finally, — he let out a sigh of relief. — We've been descending through these catacombs for fifteen minutes. No wonder the Ministry people haven't found them yet—how deep did they dig themselves in?..
Walking along the empty corridor to the very end, Victor stepped out onto a spacious stone ledge and froze.
— Wow... Impressive, — he whistled softly.
Spread out before him was the true heart of the underground base. It was a colossal empty cavern, barely inferior in size to the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. Along the sheer stone walls stretched countless wooden ladders and suspension bridges leading to dark openings—an immense number of cave tunnels and living burrows.
But as soon as Victor lowered his eyes to the very bottom of this stone basin, his eyebrows shot up, and his face darkened.
— And that's all? I thought there'd be far more of them, — Victor drawled in disappointment.
As he had assumed, there were over a hundred werewolves, perhaps around two hundred. But to him, this entire rabble looked surprisingly pathetic.
— And this is all that the great Fenrir Greyback managed to gather under his command?
Down below, in the very center of the huge hall, a serious conflict was brewing.
— Who the hell do you think you are, brat?! — fiercely roared an elderly, scar-covered werewolf, looking at a young man of about twenty-five. — I am Fenrir's right hand! And until we know for sure whether it's true, you will all blindly obey me!
The young werewolf merely smirked insolently right into the leader's face, not even thinking of backing down:
— I won't obey doting weaklings like you. Do you really think that without Greyback behind your back, you still have any authority whatsoever?
He looked over Fenrir's old henchmen with clear contempt.
— Oh my, we've got a real mutiny here, — Victor muttered quietly, watching the scene with interest from the height of the ledge. — It seems the youth kidnapped long ago by Greyback's gang decided to stage a coup. I wonder how they found out about his death so quickly, though? Did they have some artifact tracking his vital signs?
In reality, everything was much more mundane. Victor had left Greyback's head in Knockturn Alley, expecting rumors to spread that would eventually reach Voldemort. But he couldn't have imagined that those who found the trophy would immediately run to the Daily Prophet editorial office. The newsmen didn't wait until morning and instantly issued an emergency special edition with screaming headlines about the death of Britain's most dangerous werewolf. While Victor was calmly strolling through Muggle shops, the magical world was already celebrating liberation from the monster in full swing.
— Stop arguing! — barked one of the pack elders, trying to quiet the disputants. — And you, punk, isn't it a bit early to bare your teeth? Did it ever cross your empty head that Fenrir might be alive, and all this news is just a cheap trick by Ministry hounds?
At the mention of Greyback's name, the young werewolf froze sharply. An involuntary shudder ran through his body. He was strong, aggressive, and feared no one present here, but before Greyback, he felt a wild, primal, purely instinctive fear.
He quickly glanced around. Most of the werewolves present here were just like him—young men and women whom Greyback's gang had kidnapped in early childhood. Just a few minutes ago, they had passionately supported his rebellion, but as soon as the suggestion was made that Fenrir might be alive, they all timidly lowered their heads. The young wolf wanted to get angry at their cowardice, but realized in time that he himself was frozen in the exact same numbness. The fear of Greyback was drilled far too deep into their subconscious, and that angered him even more.
— Well, to hell with it, — he hissed.
— What did you just utter? — smirked one of the elders who fiercely supported Greyback's order. The sight of the frightened, quieted youths clearly gave him pleasure. — I didn't hear you, brat. Repeat that.
— I said: I've had enough! — roared the young werewolf, his voice echoing under the cave vaults. — I was bitten at twelve! I grew up among the same miserable kids, we literally clawed at each other for a lousy piece of food! I killed in Fenrir's name while you endlessly fed us fairy tales about how one day we would proudly step into the light and under his leadership become a force everyone would fear! I'm sick of it! Tired of living underground like a rat and making raids only on your command!
Hearing his words, the young werewolves began raising their heads one after another. A low, rising murmur rippled through the hall. Most of them felt the exact same way—stolen from families long ago and forcibly turned into monsters. Some had joined the pack themselves, but even they were sick to their very souls of this pathetic existence in dirt and perpetual fear.
— How dare you talk like that?! Serving Fenrir Greyback is a great honor...
The old man didn't get to finish.
A blinding flash of green light illuminated the stone walls for a second. The werewolf instantly froze, his eyes went glassy, and his heavy body hit the stones with a dull thud. An empty space formed around the corpse—the crowd recoiled back in panic, staring fearfully at the young rebel, who gripped a wand in his hand. There wasn't a trace of regret on his face.
— Enough, — he announced coldly, slowly lowering his hand. — Now I am your new Alpha. No more hiding in these rat holes for us. And even if Greyback is still alive—it no longer matters.
The remaining supporters of Greyback, catching the fanatical, devotion-filled gazes of the youths, grew genuinely terrified.
— Listen, kid... — one of the elders began in a sycophantic, conciliatory tone. — Why don't we all calm down and discuss everything? Why grab wands right away?
The new leader smirked contemptuously:
— No, no need. I no longer wish to listen to you. I've grown quite tired of your pathetic voices over all these years, — he slowly scanned the crowd and bared his teeth predatorily. — If you are with me—prove it. Get rid of them.
The werewolves froze, exchanging bewildered looks and hesitating to make the first move, until someone's low growl served as the trigger. Years of accumulated pain, humiliation, and brutal abuse burst outward in a single second like an insane, uncontrollable wave.
They didn't even use wands. Bare hands were brought into play. With a wild, beastly shriek, the crowd of young wizards surged over the terrified elders.
Victor observed the brutal execution, indifferently listening to the death cries of the elders. His gaze caught the young werewolf, who stood proudly in the very center of the hall with a triumphant smirk on his face. The guy's strength, by Victor's estimation, was noticeably less than his own, but the potential was definitely there.
— If he were trained properly, he'd make an excellent wizard, — Victor calculated in his mind, then looked over the rest and shook his head in disappointment: things were worse than he thought. — Now it's clear why Greyback, having an army at his disposal, was still cowardly hiding in holes. Looks like they weren't taught magic at all—just a wild herd.
When the screams finally died down, the werewolves, breathing heavily and wiping blood from their faces, began looking around. Wild, happy smiles played on their lips. Free at last. They were truly free—and they began celebrating it with shouts and howls!
The young new Alpha decided to strike while the iron was hot and had already inhaled a chestful of air, preparing to deliver a fiery speech to his new pack. He had dreamed for too long of surpassing Greyback, killing him, and taking his place as leader. For that, he had trained every night, mastering complex spells on his own. The guy couldn't have imagined his triumph would come so quickly.
However, his grandiose plans were ruthlessly interrupted by someone's lazy, measured clapping.
The new leader frowned fiercely and whipped his head toward the sound.
— Bravo! Simply bravo! — Victor called down to them cheerfully, continuing to clap unhurriedly. — Coming here, I never expected to witness such a spectacular family drama.
Two hundred werewolves threw their heads up as one, finally noticing the uninvited guest.
— Who the hell are you?! — growled the new leader, tightening his grip on his wand.