Alex hesitated, recalling the shattered corpse he’d found earlier. Wimzy’s round, hopeful eyes made him pause, but he sighed and said, “Alright, I’ll take you to him.”
He gently guided the elf toward the scene. Wimzy gasped when she saw the mangled body. “Master? Master!” she cried, stumbling toward the remains. Her small hands reached out but stopped short as she stared at the lifeless form. Tears welled up in her eyes.
Alex knelt beside her, using the moment to examine the body more closely. The merchant’s corpse bore deep claw marks, a large section of flesh torn from the neck and abdomen. Spell burns marked his back, likely from Sectumsempra a Cutting Curse. The combination of injuries suggested he had been attacked by both spells and werewolves, his body finally succumbing to the brutal assault.
Even Alex, who had seen his share of gruesome sights, felt a chill. This level of savagery explained why the wizarding world held such hostility toward werewolves.
Nearby, Alex noticed the shattered remains of a wooden cargo box. Most of it had been obliterated, but a few smaller drawers lay scattered in the dirt. He picked one up and sniffed at the residue inside, recognizing the faint scents of herbs. “Wormwood…” Alex muttered, identifying one of the key ingredients for the Living Hell Potion. “But no daffodil root powder to complete it. Lavender, Flobberworm slime, valerian… all for Sleeping Draught. Wimzy wasn’t lying.”
He cast a tracking spell over the area, confirming the story further. There were human footprints leading the werewolves, five sets of werewolf tracks following, and one set splitting off in a different direction. The lone werewolf seemed to have run at full speed, its tracks deeper and more erratic. “Why did that one separate?” Alex mused. ‘To get reinforcements? Or for another task?’ His thoughts were interrupted by Wimzy’s soft sobbing. “Master worked so hard…” she whispered, her small shoulders shaking. “And now he’s gone…”
Alex spotted Wimzy standing near a large tree, tears streaming down her cheeks as she repeatedly banged her head against the trunk. "Wimzy is useless! Wimzy is a house-elf without a master! Why is Wimzy so stupid? Wimzy failed to protect Master! Stupid Wimzy!" she wailed, her voice raw with anguish.
Before Alex could intervene, Wimzy snatched a sharp stone from the ground, holding it shakily. She aimed it at her head, hesitated for a brief moment, then lunged.
Bang!
A protective spell shimmered into existence, knocking the stone from her hand. Startled, Wimzy turned to see Alex striding toward her, his expression a mix of anger and frustration. "What do you think you’re doing? Your master is dead, and instead of avenging him, you’re trying to kill yourself? Are you a coward?" Alex’s voice was sharp.
Wimzy’s eyes widened, and she collapsed to the ground, wailing even louder. "But Wimzy is useless! Wimzy can’t fight monsters! Wimzy has no master! Master always said that useless creatures like Wimzy should die!"
Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly to temper his growing irritation. ‘What kind of person treats their house-elf like this?’ He looked at the distraught elf, speechless.
Wimzy’s self-loathing wasn’t just heartbreaking—it was maddening. Alex didn’t understand creatures who accepted abuse and did nothing to change their circumstances. His frustration grew as Wimzy, seemingly determined, stood and attempted to harm herself again. Without thinking, Alex grabbed her by the scruff and lifted her off the ground. "Enough of this!"
Wimzy flinched, her tiny hands clasped together. "M-Master Wizard, please let Wimzy die! Wimzy is nothing without a master! Wimzy’s cargo box is gone! Wimzy has no purpose! Please, do Wimzy a favor and let Wimzy go!"
Alex let out a heavy sigh. "You’re not dying. Not on my watch. From now on, you’ll follow me, and you’re not allowed to harm yourself. You’ll stay alive because you might still be useful. Now, come with me—we’re hunting those werewolves."
Wimzy froze, her wide eyes staring at Alex in disbelief. "Master Wizard… are you saying… you’ll let Wimzy follow you? You’ll become Wimzy master?"
"Think whatever you want," Alex muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Yes, Master! Does Master need Wimzy to fetch a cane? Wimzy can find a good one for punishments!" Wimzy’s voice brimmed with sudden excitement.
Alex groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose again. "No one’s beating you. Now clean up while I bury your master’s body. We’ll have plenty to do later."
Wimzy looked genuinely confused but nodded quickly. "Yes, Master! Wimzy is sorry for being useless!" She kicked a stone in frustration, only to hop on one foot when it hurt.
Alex sighed deeply, kneeling down to look her in the eye. "Wimzy."
"Yes, Master! Wimzy is here!" she responded, standing at attention despite the tears still glistening in her eyes.
"You’re not allowed to harm yourself ever again. Do you understand me?"
"Wimzy is sorry! Wimzy made a mistake!" she said, immediately raising her hand to punish herself by breaking her fingers. Alex glared at her, and she froze in place, trembling. Shaking his head, Alex realized he couldn’t ignore her. She might genuinely hurt herself if left alone. "Stay there," he ordered, pointing to a spot nearby.
Wimzy nodded solemnly, sitting cross-legged where Alex directed her. Alex turned his attention to the black-market merchant’s body. Despite the grim task, he felt obligated to bury the man properly. Leaving a human corpse to rot in the wilderness didn’t sit right with him.
Once the burial was complete, he picked up Wimzy and Apparated back to the fork in the road where he’d first discovered the intersecting trails. The path split into two distinct directions. One trail was taken by the lone werewolf running at full speed, while the other led to the larger group of werewolves chasing the centaurs.
Alex thought carefully. The lone werewolf’s erratic movements suggested a separate objective, but the main group—accompanied by the werewolf wizard—was clearly organized and purposeful. Based on the clues so far, Alex suspected their ultimate target was unicorns. "Looks like the werewolf wizard has shifted focus," Alex muttered, glancing at the centaur tracks mixed with the werewolf trail.
From Moody, Alex had learned about the thriving black market for magical creatures in the wizarding world. Despite numerous Ministry crackdowns, smuggling operations continued to flourish, often targeting rare or protected species like unicorns. These werewolves, likely working as muscle for the werewolf wizard, seemed to be part of such an operation.
Their use of potions—like the Sleeping Draught —hinted at a plan to capture magical creatures alive. However, without the right ingredients or quantities, their sleeping potions wouldn’t have been strong enough to subdue a unicorn. It was clear the wizard’s frustration had boiled over, and now, with no unicorns in sight, they’d shifted their attention to the centaurs.
Alex’s jaw tightened. Centaurs were proud and powerful, but even they could be overwhelmed by a coordinated assault. He knew he didn’t have time to waste. "Come on, Wimzy," Alex said, setting his sights on the werewolf tracks leading toward the centaur trail. "We’ve got work to do."
"Yes, Master! Wimzy will follow Master and obey!" Wimzy chirped, her tone filled with determination.
Alex glanced at her, muttering under his breath, "Merlin help me." With Wimzy tucked securely under his arm, sprinted along the werewolves' trail.