Hagrid muttered something under his breath but nodded, his worry giving way to determination. “Alright, what’s the plan? There’s no way the two of us can handle all those creatures on our own. We’ll need help.”
“I thought about that too,” Alex said. “And there’s one more issue. Among the creatures is a wolf—Fang. He’s intelligent, and his story checks out, but we need to confirm whether he carries the lycanthropy virus before we do anything else.”
Hagrid scratched his beard. “A wolf like Fang, born from werewolves on a full moon? I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never seen one. There’ve only been a couple cases in history.”
“I’ve read about it too,” Alex said, “but the records are vague. That’s why we need an expert to confirm his condition before deciding anything.”
Hagrid’s eyes lit up. “Professor Kettleburn! He’s got more experience with magical creatures than anyone else. If anyone can help, it’s him.”
“Professor Kettleburn?” Alex asked, hesitating. “Isn’t he retired? And… well, he’s not exactly in the best shape. Doesn’t he only have one leg left?”
“He might be old, but his knowledge’s sharper than a dragon,” Hagrid replied, grinning. “If he can’t help, then we’ll go straight to Professor Dumbledore.”
Alex nodded. “Alright, let’s talk to Kettleburn first. If he’s willing, he can help us handle the animals.”
Alex accompanied Hagrid to find Professor Kettleburn, who was in his quarters teasing his pet fire snake. Despite his advanced age and physical limitations, Kettleburn still had an air of vitality about him, his eyes bright with enthusiasm for magical creatures. “Ah, Hagrid! And Alex, too! What brings you here at this hour?” Kettleburn greeted them warmly, the fire snake curling around his arm.
“Er—'scuse me, Professor, but we’ve got ourselves a bit of a sticky situation,” Hagrid began, shuffling his feet and wringing his hands. “See, there’s these creatures, locked up an’ neglected somethin’ awful—breaks yer heart, it does—and, well, Fang here’s got a story that’s a bit… unusual, yeh might say.” He paused, glancing down at Fang before plowing ahead. “Figured you’d be the one ter know what ter do, Professor, seeing as you’ve dealt with all sorts of magical beasts.”
"What? A bunch of poor magical creatures waiting to be rescued?" Professor Kettleburn’s gray hair seemed to bristle with anger. “Damn those smugglers! They don’t have a clue how to care for magical creatures! Every year, countless creatures die because of their greed. Take me there—I want to see this for myself!”
Alex hesitated, eyeing the old professor’s prosthetic leg and cane. “Professor, I really think it’s better if we bring them back here. I’m worried the trip might be too much for you.”
“I’m not so old and feeble that I can’t handle a bit of travel!” Kettleburn snapped, his stubbornness on full display. He tapped his prosthetic leg, controlling it with magic, and took a few surprisingly nimble steps forward. “Now stop wasting time. Lead the way! And thank Merlin you didn’t release them into the wild. A sudden change in environment could kill them just as easily as those smugglers.”
Alex exchanged a helpless look with Hagrid, who shrugged. There was no arguing with Kettleburn when it came to magical creatures. “Well, I’ll take my flying motorcycle and bring the professor along,” Hagrid suggested, patting the sidecar attached to Sirius Black’s old bike. “Alex, you lead the way on your broomstick.”
“That works.” Alex sighed in reluctant agreement, seeing no better option. Once everything was set, the three of them departed. Hagrid revved up the enchanted motorcycle, with Kettleburn seated in the sidecar, a pair of windproof goggles perched on his nose. Alex took to the skies on his broomstick, keeping a steady pace ahead of them.
As the motorcycle roared to life, Alex called back, “By the way, Professor, about werewolf cubs born during the full moon.”
Kettleburn adjusted his goggles, his voice carrying easily over the hum of the bike’s engine. “Ah, right! According to research, offspring of lycanthropic werewolves—whether conceived in human or wolf form—don’t carry the lycanthropy virus. But just to be safe, I’ll run a virus test on this Fang when we get there.”
He leaned forward, excitement lighting up his face. “And a talking wolf cub? That’s extraordinary! Can’t wait to see the little fellow.”
Relieved by Kettleburn’s explanation, Alex nodded and focused on boosting his broomstick’s speed with magic. The broom was far from top-tier, but with a bit of added propulsion, he managed to keep ahead of the motorcycle. The three flew in a straight line, cutting through the crisp morning air, and arrived at the stronghold in just over an hour.
Upon landing, Alex immediately sought out Wimzy, who had been hiding near the entrance under the shimmering cloak. She ran up to him the moment she saw him. “Master! Wimzy has been watching the rock closely. No one has approached,” she reported proudly, standing a little taller.
“Good work, Wimzy,” Alex praised, taking back the shimmering cloak. “Rest for now. We might need your help inside the cave.”
“Yes, Master. Wimzy promises to do her best!” she chirped, her newfound confidence shining through, though a hint of awkwardness lingered in her demeanor.
Hagrid, noticing Wimzy for the first time, scratched his head. “Alex, you disappeared all night, and now you’ve got yourself a house-elf?”
Alex gave a brief explanation. “I found her while tracking the werewolves. Her previous master was killed by them.”
“Those werewolves are nothing but trouble,” Hagrid muttered, his face darkening. “Now, let’s get inside. The poor creatures trapped down there might not last much longer.”
Professor Kettleburn chimed in, his voice urgent. “A confined space like that can cause all sorts of illnesses. Take me to them immediately!” Alex didn’t waste any time. He pushed aside the large boulder concealing the entrance and used a levitating spell to help the older professor into the tunnel. Hagrid followed, ducking his head to avoid the low ceiling.
As they descended, the cave came alive with the sound of whimpers, growls, and cries. The magical creatures, now fully awake, were clearly distressed—hungry, hurt, or both. The pitiful noises echoed through the cavern, amplifying their misery.
Kettleburn’s expression hardened, his pace quickening despite his limp. “Sweet Merlin,” he muttered. When they reached the main chamber, his voice rose in outrage. “What in the name of all that’s magical have those smugglers done? Look at these poor darlings!”
Hagrid, too, was visibly moved. His large eyes shone with emotion as he surveyed the room. When he spotted the injured manticore, his heart seemed to melt. “Oh, you poor thing,” he murmured, his voice soft. “What have they done to you?” He reached for the iron gate, intent on opening it, but Alex quickly stopped him.
“Careful, Hagrid. That’s still a manticore.”
“Oh, right. Sorry,” Hagrid said sheepishly, though his gaze lingered on the creature with clear affection.
“Benefactor! You’re back!” Fang’s voice rang out as he emerged from the shadows. His excitement was evident, though there was a flicker of apprehension in his eyes.