Most of the rescued creatures had already recovered and been released back into the wild or placed in Kettleburn’s breeding paddock near the Forbidden Forest. However, a few—like the current group of smaller animals—seemed reluctant to leave. They had grown attached to Fang and the others, forming an unlikely pack that now followed him wherever he went.
Despite his intelligence, Fang’s behavior often reminded Alex of an overexcited husky. He had a tendency to chew on anything within reach, leaving teeth marks on furniture and hut walls alike. “Destructive” didn’t quite cover it; Fang’s enthusiasm for “remodeling” the cabin caused endless headaches for Alex and Hagrid.
Still, Fang had his redeeming qualities. His ability to charm and calm even the most skittish magical animals made him a favorite of both Kettleburn and Hagrid. Whenever there was a particularly difficult creature to manage, Fang was the first one they called.
The magical animals weren’t the only ones benefiting from his presence. Fang’s antics brought an unexpected sense of joy and camaraderie to the group. Even Wimzy, who had been reserved and shy, became more confident as she took on the role of caretaker, always following behind Fang to “clean up after his messes.”
The long recovery process for the rescued creatures meant Alex stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas instead of returning to Diagon Alley. His friends, Charles and Vivian, were thrilled by the magical animals, often stopping by after training sessions to pet the more sociable ones. Fang, now fully integrated into the group, had become the self-proclaimed leader of the smaller animals. Whether it was the Crups, Sables, or Knarls, he seemed to consider them his “pack,” leading them on playful misadventures around the hut. Meanwhile, Wimzy trailed behind like an exasperated mother, muttering to herself about the constant chaos.
Today, with most of the animals recovered, Alex decided to host a small outdoor barbecue near the hut. Fang, of course, was front and center, watching the grill with unrelenting focus while his “followers” waited patiently around him. Alex sighed, glancing at him with exasperation. “Calm down, Fang. These are large cuts of meat—they take time to cook. And see that fat still tinged with blood? That means they’re not done yet.”
Fang’s ears drooped slightly, but his eyes remained fixed on the grill like a starving dog eyeing a feast. Around him, a small crowd of magical creatures had gathered, equally entranced by the smell of roasting meat. Two Crups, three Knarl-like Hedgehogs, and a pair of Sables all sat attentively, waiting for their share. “Fang,” Alex asked casually as he turned the sizzling meat over the fire, “how’s the spell-casting practice I’ve been teaching you? Still having trouble?”
“Ah, yes, my lord,” Fang replied without breaking his gaze from the barbecue. “I’ve been practicing the spells you taught me, but I can’t even manage a simple Lumos or Wingardium Leviosa. Whether I hold the wand in my mouth or my claws, nothing works. It seems I don’t have much talent for spellcasting.”
Alex raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You’ve got magical intelligence and energy, so there must be something blocking it. We’ll figure it out.”
“Maybe after dinner?” Fang said hopefully, his tail wagging slightly as he gestured toward the grill.
Alex laughed, shaking his head. “Fine. But don’t expect magic to fix your appetite. You’ll need to wait like everyone else.” Fang’s inability to cast spells didn’t bother him much. His parents had tried teaching him spellcasting when he was young, but it had proven impossible. Even learning to speak had drained an enormous amount of effort.
For Alex, however, this was a puzzle worth solving. He knew Fang had magic flowing through him—around 200 Lum, to be exact. While it wasn’t as high as some wizards, it was more than enough to cast basic spells. In fact, it was even higher than Vivian’s magic power, which made Alex grimace at the thought of Fang, a wolf, being magically stronger than her.
Fang’s magic power, sensitivity, mental fortitude, and will were all well above average. He could chant incantations and understood spell mechanics, yet he remained unable to cast even the simplest spells. Despite his research, Alex had been unable to identify the problem.
It was Professor Kettleburn who finally shed some light on the situation. “Different creatures have different physiologies,” he explained. “This means their magic manifests in unique ways. Human wizards developed spellcasting techniques tailored to their own bodies and minds, but other magical beings, even those with similar intelligence, often operate under completely different magical systems. For Fang, spellcasting like a wizard might simply be incompatible.”
Though this explanation made sense, Alex wasn’t entirely ready to give up. “Magic shouldn’t go to waste,” he muttered to himself, determined to find another way.
Fang, meanwhile, wasn’t nearly as invested in his magical potential. His focus was currently on the grill. “Uh, my lord, I don’t understand half of what you’re saying, but the meat—can you flip it now? It smells amazing!” Fang’s tongue lolled out as he stared at the barbecue, drooling.
Alex sighed. “Don’t worry about spells for now. But you and Wimzy need to meet me in the Forbidden Forest later. I’ve got something special for you—a gift. Think of it as part of an experiment.”
“Master, does Wimzy get a gift too?” Wimzy, who was busy tending the fire, looked up with wide, curious eyes.
“Of course,” Alex said with a smile, watching her expression brighten. Wimzy had come a long way since Alex first met her. The timid house-elf who once flinched at every shadow now stood a little taller, her gaze a little sharper. She wore a practical marching uniform Alex had provided, her once frail figure now noticeably stronger. Much of her transformation was thanks to the food Alex and Fang shared with her, but it wasn’t just her body that had changed.
Wimzy’s spirit had begun to shift as well. She was no longer as obsequious or fearful, though traces of her old submissive nature still lingered. Alex’s insistence on physical training—less rigorous than what Charles and the others endured, but still structured—had built her confidence and tempered her will. The changes weren’t dramatic, but they were significant. She even occasionally voiced her opinions, though always hesitantly.
For Alex, these changes were both encouraging and fascinating. House-elves had long intrigued him. Despite their innate magical talents—such as wandless casting and their ability to Apparate even in areas warded against it—they had been reduced to a servile role through centuries of domestication by wizards. This deeply ingrained sense of subservience troubled Alex, especially given their potential.