"Not working together?" Annabelle frowned.
"Historically, regardless of who they were before transforming, their feral instincts completely hijack their rational minds. Because of that, when they encounter other werewolves, they naturally pack up. They don't attack each other."
She paused, turning the thought over. "But if you're certain the Grey Wolf was actively attacking the Black Wolf..."
Annabelle didn't doubt Richie. He had absolutely no reason to lie about it. After a moment of thought, she decided to put the anomaly on the official record.
"Alright, head back to bed," she said, affectionately ruffling his hair before turning to leave.
"Do I not need my memory wiped?" Richie asked tentatively.
"Of course not. You're a wizard, and technically the victim here," Annabelle winked at him. "Just remember: you were deeply traumatized. The Ministry will compensate you."
With a sharp crack, she Disapparated.
Richie stood in the hallway for a long moment, letting the adrenaline finally crash. He hadn't expected to deal with a life-or-death situation on his first night back home for the summer.
Good thing it didn't end worse.
Shaking his head, he walked back into his bedroom. The shattered window had been perfectly restored. His owl, Wangcai, was perched on his desk, tilting his head curiously as Richie walked in.
"Seriously, man. Thank you," Richie said, walking over and giving the bird a good scratch behind the ears.
If Wangcai hadn't aggressively woken him up, this entire night would have been a bloodbath.
Richie pulled a standard box of owl treats from his drawer. "I'll hit Diagon Alley tomorrow and get you the premium stuff. Just make do with this tonight, alright?"
He poured the feed out. Satisfied with the VIP treatment, Wangcai gave a soft hoot and immediately dug in.
Richie cracked the window open slightly for airflow, crawled into bed, and slipped his wand back under his pillow.
Was he scared? Absolutely. It was his first time facing down a werewolf, his first real brush with death, and his first time being in the room when a shotgun went off.
But after everything he had survived at Hogwarts, his tolerance for chaos had massively leveled up. The scare wasn't enough to give him insomnia.
Exhaustion quickly took over, and Richie fell into a deep sleep.
---
The next morning.
"I had the craziest dream last night! I was out on the plains, hunting a pack of wolves," Denton said, casually sipping a glass of warm milk at the breakfast table.
He excitedly pitched his wild, disjointed memory to Richie and Mrs. Harland. "But when I pulled the trigger, two of the wolves stood up on their hind legs and caught the buckshot with their bare hands!"
"It was wild. You think if I write this up and send it to The Quibbler, they'd publish it?" Denton looked at Richie, genuinely considering it.
"Uh... yeah, I bet they'd take it," Richie replied, casually spreading jam over his toast. "If there's one thing The Quibbler is desperate for, it's content."
Denton nodded, looking incredibly pleased with himself.
Mrs. Harland just rolled her eyes. "It was just a dream, Denton. You've literally told this story four times already!"
"Haha," Denton chuckled, completely unbothered.
"By the way, Dad," Richie chimed in, "I need to hit Diagon Alley today to pick up a few things. Can you give me a ride?"
"Diagon Alley?" Denton blinked. "Where's that?"
Seeing his dad's confusion, Richie realized his aunt had always been the one to take him. It made sense Denton didn't know.
"It's the magical world's main shopping district," Richie explained flatly.
Denton's eyes instantly lit up. "A magical shopping street? Can I come?"
Seeing his dad practically vibrating with excitement, Richie gave a helpless nod. "I don't see why not. But don't you have to go to work?"
"Work?" Denton scoffed. "I'm the director. The place won't burn down if I skip a day." He proudly tipped his chin up, fully leaning into his minor bureaucratic power.
"Alright, fine. But if you're coming with me..." Richie quickly laid out a few ground rules.
Denton agreed to all of them without hesitation.
---
After breakfast, Richie grabbed his trunk, and the two of them drove into London.
Charing Cross Road.
Because the street was packed, Denton parked a few blocks away, and they walked the rest of the route.
Tucked between a bookstore and a record shop, Richie nonchalantly pushed open a dingy corner door. While Denton was still trying to process what he was looking at, Richie yanked him inside.
The overpowering stench of cheap alcohol immediately assaulted Denton's nose. Before he could react, he was standing in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron.
He took one quick, sweeping look at the bizarre patrons, shoved his hands in his pockets, and played it cool, closely following Richie toward the back exit.
They stepped into a small, walled courtyard facing a solid red brick wall.
Richie drew his wand. He tapped a specific brick above the trash can—three up, two across.
The bricks immediately began to shift and fold inward, revealing a wide stone archway.
"Now that... is incredible," Denton whispered, his jaw dropping.
Richie just nodded, and they stepped through together.
---
A wall of noise and color instantly washed over them.
"Color-Changing Ink Sets! Make your handwriting pop!" "Gilderoy Lockhart book signing soon at Flourish and Blotts! Entire collections on sale!" "Giant Toads! Originally 5 Galleons, now down to 3 Galleons, 12 Sickles!" "Wow. This is nothing like I pictured," Denton muttered.
Talking balloons, massive self-writing quills floating in the air, and a pet shop window crawling with things that definitely weren't cats or dogs...
Denton was entirely mesmerized.
Richie patted his dad's arm. "Alright, stick close. Don't wander off."
With that, Richie led the way. Denton, too distracted to complain about taking orders from an eleven-year-old, trailed obediently behind him.
Richie walked straight into Eeylops Owl Emporium to upgrade Wangcai's food.
A standard box of owl feed ran about 4 Sickles. The premium stuff? A staggering 100 Sickles a box.
It was a twenty-five-time markup. But considering Wangcai had essentially saved their lives last night, Richie didn't hesitate. He dropped the cash and bought twenty boxes.
As the old joke goes:
"Dad, why aren't we eating yet?" "Are you kidding? Nobody eats until your Uncle Wangcai sits at the table!" The shopkeeper heavily stressed that the premium feed was incredibly nutrient-dense and had to be diluted with water before serving, otherwise, the owl could literally eat itself to death.
According to the clerk, twenty boxes would comfortably last Wangcai for three straight months.
Richie walked out of the shop, highly satisfied with his purchase.