Chapter 28: Fenrir’s Bounty

"You're still interested in that?" Midgard looked at Leonard in surprise. Seeing how serious he was, she added, "The Ministry of Magic's bounty is a thousand Galleons, but I figure we'll actually get around six or seven hundred. Most of it comes from the families Fenrir hurt. Some of their relatives survived being bitten, but many missed the treatment window and turned into Werewolves."

Her expression darkened as she went on. "They also posted additional bounties through dark wizard channels. Once we settle the accounts, it should add up to one or two thousand."

"Sounds pretty good," Leonard said.

"Don't get any ideas. This time was pure luck—otherwise, the two of us wouldn't have stood a chance against Fenrir. Every wizard with a bounty like his is dangerous. You'd be better off focusing on Hogwarts," Midgard warned.

"Relax, I'm not about to gamble with my life," Leonard replied. "Anyway, let's get to business. You wanted Essence of Dittany, right? Here it is."

"This batch looks different from the last one." Midgard eyed the clear liquid on the table.

Catching her puzzled look, Leonard explained, "I heard from Jigger that someone was selling Essence of Dittany that worked well but was poor in quality. So I bought a bottle."

"So that bottle was yours too," Leonard realized. "No need to worry. This batch is even better—I improved the process."

"Really?" Midgard nodded. "Then let's go with the agreed price, ten Galleons a bottle."

"No need. Since you're buying directly from me, you get a discount—five Galleons per bottle." Leonard said generously.

He knew he might often need banned magical ingredients in the future, and Midgard's help would be essential. Though he had saved her life, he wasn't foolish enough to keep cashing in on that single favor. Leonard understood well the difference between a one-time debt and a lasting partnership.

Midgard's expression softened at his words.

"Five Galleons is too little. Let's make it eight," she said.

"No, five. If you don't agree, I'm not selling." Leonard jumped up from his chair, reaching to take the vials back.

"Alright, alright—you win. Five Galleons." Midgard gave him a helpless smile. "Five bottles, twenty-five Galleons total."

She picked out twenty-five coins from the pile on the table, dropped them into a cloth pouch, and handed it to Leonard. Then she filled a larger sack with three hundred Galleons and passed that to him as well.

"Here's the payment for that crate of materials I promised you. Take it. I'll have Marcus see you back to Diagon Alley later. As for the bounty… sorry, I'd like to give you a share, but there are too many injured Werewolves…"

"It's fine. I don't need that much money anyway. But who's Marcus?" Leonard asked, puzzled as he took the pouch.

"The one you were planning to knock out. My right-hand man." Midgard jerked her chin toward the middle-aged man outside the door.

"Well, looks like I nearly offended your right-hand man. He won't be holding a grudge against me, will he?" Leonard joked.

"No. Marcus is mute. Once, he lost control and killed his wife and children. When he came to his senses, he bit off his own tongue." Midgard's tone was flat, almost detached.

It was a brutal story, yet she spoke of it as if it were nothing.

Leonard went quiet for a moment, then steered the conversation elsewhere. "By the way, aren't Werewolves supposed to heal quickly? Why buy Essence of Dittany at all?"

He had already noticed outside that many Werewolves were showing signs of recovery—it hardly seemed necessary to treat them.

"The full moon is only a few days away," Midgard sighed. "Anyone still carrying wounds could easily die during the frenzy."

The mood grew heavy again.

Leonard hesitated, then asked, "Do Werewolf wizards really lose control completely during the full moon?"

"Yes. Even those of us who fight it with all our will are no exception," Midgard said quietly. "It's a curse we can't escape."

Can't escape? That can't be right. Isn't there the Wolfsbane Potion?

Leonard frowned slightly and pressed, "There's no potion that can help you?"

"Why are you asking?" Midgard looked at him with faint amusement. "Trying to play savior to us Werewolves?"

"Call it kindness—I just don't like watching people suffer," Leonard replied.

"Kindness? Please. Truly kind people don't kill so decisively, or insist on making enemies like Fenrir." Midgard's gaze softened. "I appreciate the thought, but don't waste your time on us."

"Maybe I'm a genius. Just tell me—has anyone tried brewing something for it?" Leonard said stubbornly.

He wasn't trying to be anyone's savior. The Werewolves had nothing to do with him. He simply didn't think Midgard, of all people, should be forced to endure it.

Seeing the determination in his eyes, Midgard's lips curved into an involuntary smile.

"Alright, you stubborn child," she said with a sigh. "I've heard there are people researching Werewolf wizards and brewing related potions. But I don't have much contact with that world, so I don't know the details. You could ask Jigger—he has plenty of connections in that field. He might know something."

"Jigger?" Leonard frowned. "If that's the case, you should just buy my Essence of Dittany through him."

"Why?" Midgard blinked in surprise.

"He's not stupid. If we keep cutting him out, he'll notice. That'll get me blacklisted, never mind trying to get information from him." Leonard stroked his chin. "That's how it is sometimes—you have to give something to get something."

After all, he didn't know the Wolfsbane Potion recipe.