Armenia, deep in the forest, a werewolf settlement.

The undercurrents of the outside world had no effect on this quiet forest clearing.

Gilderoy Lockhart sat on the steps of the wooden house, looking relaxed, patiently cleaning the dirt off his robes.

Behind him, on either side of the forest, and on the path directly in front of him, dozens of werewolves sized up the young wizard with various expressions.

In no more than a dozen minutes, the full moon night would arrive.

When the moon rose to its highest point, the beast hidden within their bodies would burst forth, devouring their reason and temporarily turning them into bloodthirsty, combative beasts eager to attack humans.

"Are you really trying to die? Get lost, werewolves aren't a knife for you to end yourself!"

Antillisia McIntosh frowned deeply, looking unkindly at the gum-like figure stuck on the steps.

"Or... are you trying to threaten us? Do you think we wouldn't dare to just kill you, you bastard?!"

Before proposing the "kidnapping plan," they had envisioned various emergencies, prepared a large number of personnel and equipment, and specifically inquired about the recent predicament of the Aurors in the surrounding Ministry of Magic, but they never expected the current situation where the "hostage" refused to leave.

Aghashian must have memories of the "Human-Restoring Spell" - McIntosh and others were now quite certain of this.

Otherwise, Gilderoy Lockhart would not have publicly erased the old wizard's memory in front of a group of werewolves in order to monopolize the market.

Perhaps Romulus and others did not understand magic, but they could repeat everything they heard.

Although the repetition of "Obliviate" sounded a bit vague, it was enough for werewolf wizards like McIntosh to make a judgment:

Gilderoy Lockhart, you damn bastard!

Just like a few years ago, he cast a Memory Charm on Aghashian again!

In the eyes of Antillisia McIntosh and others, Gilderoy Lockhart was clearly planning to raise the price on the spot.

This guy was betting that they wouldn't give up hope of restoring the werewolves, so after enduring several rounds of torture and torment, it was now his turn to "torment" and "threaten" them.

And the most shocking and admirable thing was that he was now using his own life as a bargaining chip.

When the Cruciatus Curse and death threats all lost their effect, time became the deadline for forcing the werewolves to submit.

Whether what this guy was saying was true or false, if he died here tonight, everything would be gone.

Time passed bit by bit, and Antillisia McIntosh and the others exchanged helpless glances.

"Damn it! You win, Lockhart!"

Antillisia McIntosh took a deep breath and said in a deep voice.

"Say it, what do you want us to do - what will it take for you to disappear completely from our sight before the damn moon rises?! If you want to cast the Cruciatus Curse on me, then go ahead, don't waste time! But we really don't have any gold right now!"

Perhaps Gilderoy Lockhart didn't have the memory of that "magical spell" in his mind, but that wasn't important right now.

Since becoming werewolves, they had been searching for a way to return to human form for far too long, and disappointment had long become a habit.

But precisely because of this, before hope was completely shattered, no one dared to gamble on that one in ten thousand "lucky" miss.

At this critical moment, Gilderoy Lockhart had stepped on their Achilles' heel.

All hope and negotiations must wait until after dawn tomorrow.

As for admitting their mistakes, even if they had to accept ten or a hundred times the revenge, Antillisia McIntosh didn't care.

Werewolves had no dignity to speak of, they just wanted to live again... as humans.

Gilderoy Lockhart stood up. He looked around at the werewolves, his voice steady and clear, without any fear or anger.

"I know, you haven't completely believed me yet, this is just an unconfirmed legend."

"Frankly, when I first discovered there were twenty or so werewolves, I thought about defeating you. When I found out you had so many werewolf wizards, I thought about sending out a distress signal and trying to leave here alive."

"But when I discovered that there might be nearly a hundred werewolves gathered here, I suddenly didn't plan to leave just like that—"

His words sounded a little illogical and full of an extremely arrogant confidence.

However, the surrounding werewolves did not interrupt him, because Lockhart was holding his wand seriously for the first time tonight.

Antillisia McIntosh exchanged a puzzled look, and the surrounding werewolves also looked dazed, quietly watching Lockhart.

Lockhart raised his hand, fumbled around in his arms, took out a gleaming silver metal piece, and solemnly pinned it on his chest.

In the dimly lit cabin in the forest, people could barely see what it looked like.

It was a particularly strange badge.

No one present had ever seen such a strange and special pattern.

[Three arrows pointing inward through a circle, and an outer ring enclosing them. Directly below the badge are three letters]

Lockhart continued, "Humanity has been reproducing for over years, but only the last 4000 years have been meaningful. So, what were we doing for nearly years? We hid in caves, sat around small bonfires, fearing, worshiping, and hating the things we didn't understand—those things about how the sun rises, those monsters with human heads and bird bodies, those living stones..."

"Later, magic appeared, the number of things humans didn't understand decreased, and our numbers increased. As the things we feared decreased, we began to look at the world more rationally. However, irresolvable confusion did not disappear, such as—werewolves."

"Humans can never become completely identical individuals - no two people are exactly the same."

"Muggles, wizards, men, women, these are more obvious classifications."

"And werewolves are just a special sick group of people with a disease."

"If human civilization gives up exploration and rescue, and chooses to treat you as 'monsters,' then the same divisions and conflicts will sooner or later occur in other classifications of human society. It may start with Muggles and wizards, then men and women..."

"Centuries ago, terrible wars broke out between the non-magical and magical worlds, almost turning the entire Europe into a wasteland."

"In order to prevent the tragedy from repeating itself, someone must guard the most basic hope in the shadows and fight for it."

"Since you have not given up hope and still consider yourselves human, then—"

Gilderoy Lockhart raised his finger, tapped the Foundation's badge on his chest lightly, and said softly.

"I, Gilderoy Lockhart, head of the Black Robe Wizards, one of the Foundation's O5 members. I have the obligation and the responsibility to save you all. I said, I didn't come here to die, I came to save you."

His words sounded a little inexplicably inspiring, but just then, some voices suddenly rang out.

Someone let out a cold, mocking snicker.

"Heh, a writer's fantasy..."

Among the werewolf wizards standing in the cabin, several people sneered disdainfully.

"What's wrong? Listening to you, it seems like someone will come to save you? Where are they? Lost?"

Even Antillisia McIntosh felt a flash of disappointment in her heart, because she suddenly felt that this young book writer might really be mentally unwell. He might not be a liar—he was just a madman who had confused the boundaries between reality and the world of novels.

What Foundation, what Black Robe Wizards...

For decades, she had never heard of such an organization.

"Of course, fantasies and the like, what you said is also, well, not completely wrong—"

However, to everyone's surprise, Gilderoy Lockhart did not refute their mockery, but laughed along with them.

Lockhart raised his hand and launched a burst of pure white magical fireworks into the sky.

He suddenly remembered something. If the "rescuers" were that Miss "Fool"...

Maybe, they really got lost. Hopefully this signal is in time...

Of course, there's another possibility...

After launching the magical fireworks into the sky, Lockhart shrugged and sat down again.

"If no one comes after tonight, then... those stories I just told may indeed just be a beautiful fantasy story - or, Gilderoy Lockhart shouldn't live past tonight, after all, magic and miracles also have to be paid for—"

"Oh right, in a few hours, it'll be my twenty-ninth birthday."

Lockhart turned his head, looked at the werewolf wizards behind him, grinned, and laughed.

"If you really want to compensate me, then sing me a few birthday songs in advance, okay?"

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Yay!