Viktor stopped clapping and let out a sad sigh. The poor devils had only just gained their long-awaited freedom, and here he was, already about to feed them to a ravenous basilisk. He almost felt like a genuine villain.
— I apologize in advance for the inconvenience, — Viktor offered a friendly smile, spreading his arms wide. — Who am I? Allow me to introduce myself! One of the Three Sannin of Konoha, the most resilient shinobi, and the legendary master of snakes — Orochimaru!
No sooner had he finished speaking than a colossal, scaly head began to rise majestically from the darkness of the tunnel behind him. The basilisk immediately opened its massive, lethal yellow eyes.
A collective scream of terror echoed under the cavern arches — the werewolves shrank back in panic, stumbling over one another at the sight of the monster. But mere seconds later, something far more sinister and baffling occurred.
The werewolves began collapsing silently onto the stone floor one after another, like falling dominoes. First to drop dead were those standing closest to the ledge who had met the serpent's gaze; then, the deadly wave swept rapidly outward.
Viktor watched with keen interest as the werewolves perished, nodding approvingly. He was just about to turn and leave the basilisk to its well-deserved feast when he noticed the deadly conveyor belt had suddenly ground to a halt. Only half the pack lay dead. The surviving werewolves, in absolute shock, darted their eyes between the corpses of their comrades and the boy standing motionless on the ledge.
— Um... snakey, why'd you stop? Snakey? — Viktor turned around in confusion and froze.
The basilisk, coiled in a massive ring, was peacefully fast asleep.
— Hey, what do you think you're doing? Get up and finish the job! — Viktor gave the snake a gentle kick in its scaly side. He tried to wake it through their master-pet mental bond, but it was useless — the serpent kept right on snoring.
— They're dead! — one of the surviving werewolves shrieked hysterically, dropping to his knees before a fallen comrade.
— What? What are you talking about?! — panic erupted from all sides.
— Check for yourselves! They're dead!
The young Alpha stood as if struck by lightning. Everything was happening too fast. Barely a minute ago, he had become the rightful leader of Fenrir Greyback's entire army, and now, because of some strange kid with a giant snake, more than half his fighters were instantly corpses. His first rational instinct was to run for his life, but Viktor's next words made him hesitate.
— Hey, wait a second, please, — Viktor scratched the back of his neck in puzzlement, addressing the survivors. — He kind of just went limp on me. Seriously, this has never happened before; usually he's extremely active...
With a sigh, he aimed his wrist at the sleeping mass, and with a soft click, his bracelet pulled the basilisk back inside.
Realizing that the terrifying snake had stopped killing and that only a single boy remained before them, the young Alpha's spirit instantly soared. Fear receded, giving way to white-hot, humiliated rage.
— YOU LITTLE RUNT! — the leader howled frantically, pointing a trembling finger at the ledge. — This is all your fault! Kill him! I want to watch that bastard die in agony! Kill him!
Viktor lazily turned to face the enraged mob. His irises instantly flushed crimson, and three black tomoe spun into motion around his pupils. The Sharingan activated at full power.
Thanks to his unique vision, the world around him seemed to freeze, turning into thick syrup. Viktor derived aesthetic pleasure from watching dozens of multicolored curse bolts fly toward him at an impossibly slow, fluid pace. In slow motion, it looked breathtakingly beautiful — like fireworks in a night sky.
BANG!
The stone ledge Viktor had been standing on split to splinters under a massive combined explosion. The corridor behind him caved in completely with a deafening roar, burying the passage. A dense cloud of gray dust and pulverized stone billowed into the air. From the colossal explosive force, deep fissures spiderwebbed across the ceiling of the vast cavern with a terrifying crack.
When the dust finally settled a bit, nothing was left of the ledge but a shapeless pile of smoking rubble.
— Damn it, where did this guy even come from?! — screamed one of the surviving werewolves in panic, coughing up inhaled stone dust. — And what the hell was that snake?!
— That doesn't matter anymore! — the young werewolf cut him off sharply, taking charge.
Though he tried to shut down his subordinate's questions, he knew all too well that the situation had spun completely out of control. Outwardly, the young leader desperately tried to project a cold, resolute front, but deep down, a wild, paralyzing dread of the unknown wizard was consuming him.
— I don't know how that pup tracked us down, — the new Alpha continued, trying to pump as much authority into his voice as possible, — but if he could do it, the rest of the Aurors won't be far behind. Listen to my command: wrap it up, fast! Grab anything of value and get to the exit. We're leaving right now!
— What about the kids? — piped up one of the pack members, nodding uneasily toward the dark depths of the catacombs.
The new Alpha's face twisted into a malicious, disgusted sneer:
— No time to mess with them. Get rid of them.
The werewolves nodded somberly and, without asking further questions, hurriedly set to work.
In one of the farthest, dampest caves, behind a rusted iron grate, the kidnapped children sat directly on the cold, dirty ground. Hearing heavy footsteps approaching, they began to tremble in fear. Overcoming their terror, the captives slowly stood up and dutifully lined up along the wall — they had been conditioned to do this every time the guards arrived. The youngest girl looked to be about nine years old; the oldest boy, no more than thirteen.
The heavy latch slid back with a rasping scrape. Three werewolves armed with wands swung the iron door open and stepped inside with confidence.
The first to enter immediately frowned, noticing that one of the captives — a skinny lad in a torn jacket — remained lying passively on the ground in the corner, not even turning his head.
— Hey, brat! — barked the werewolf coarsely. — What the hell, haven't you learned the rules yet? Get up when we walk in!
— Ah, relax, what difference does it make now, — his partner drawled lazily, stepping forward. He swept a contemptuous glare over the frightened children and bared his teeth in a bloodthirsty grin: — Well now, little ones... I know Greyback promised that when you grew up, you'd proudly join the ranks of his invincible army. But plans have changed drastically, I'm afraid.
He raised his wand, pointing it straight at the cowering children. The other two executioners followed suit.
— Not that it matters to you anymore. Avada Kedavra!
The children squeezed their eyes shut in terror and huddled into a tight cluster, clinging to one another. A series of blinding flashes of lethal green light instantly illuminated the dark cave. The air crackled with wild magic.
A second later, all fell silent. But not a single child dropped to the floor.
— Ha-ha-ha! Say, boys, isn't this just an incredible feeling... Oh yeah, screw everything, I bloody love this!
The youngest girl peeked open her eyes and froze in shock at what she saw.
Two of the werewolves lay dead on the floor with glassy eyes — killed by their own curses. Meanwhile, the third executioner stood in the middle of the cave, laughing crazily and talking to himself.
Something about his appearance had changed: his eyes burned with an unearthly crimson light, and three black tomoe leaves rotated smoothly around his pupils.
Rising slowly and soundlessly from the dirty ground, the skinny lad in the corner squared his shoulders. A thick billow of crimson smoke wrapped around his tattered clothes for a second; when it cleared, the boy was wearing a clean, pitch-black hooded suit. Viktor's eyes burned crimson with three tomoe — exactly like the werewolf's.
He strolled up to the executioner, a cold smirk playing on his lips. Pulling a small vial of Polyjuice Potion from his pocket, Viktor slipped it into the hand of the werewolf, who, continuing to babble coherently in his waking nightmare, dutifully drained the vial to the last drop.
A moment later, the poor wretch's bones cracked, and his flesh began to rapidly melt and re-form. Half a minute later, Viktor's exact double stood before him. The clone turned in silence and obediently ambled toward the cave exit.
Viktor watched his puppet walk away with a faint smile, then turned to the stunned children. They were staring at him with an indescribable mixture of fear, awe, and hope.
They were the sole reason he had come here. He had stumbled upon them in the memories he extracted from Fenrir Greyback. At first, Viktor had lazily decided it wasn't his problem — let the valiant Ministry Aurors handle rescuing prisoners. But some stubborn, deeply buried part of his soul simply wouldn't let him walk away.
With an effortless wave of his hand, warm clothes of various sizes and heaps of food bags showered onto the ground before the children with a soft rustle. Yes, he hadn't been wasting his time in London's Muggle quarters for nothing.
— Pick out some warm clothes and get something to eat, — Viktor said calmly. — Then sit tight and wait. As soon as I finish outside, I'll come back and get you out.
The children's eyes flared with desperate intensity. Forgetting everything else in the world, the famished captives descended on the food like a tidal wave.
Viktor turned, preparing to leave, when his gaze caught a tiny figure. The girl, the youngest among them — she looked nine at most — sat off to the side. She wasn't moving.
He frowned and walked over to her slowly. Noticing his approach, the little girl fearfully pulled her head into her shoulders and shivered.
— Aren't you hungry? — Viktor asked softly.
Trembling violently, the girl gave a barely perceptible nod.
— Then why are you sitting here instead of eating with the rest?
— I'm... I'm weak, — she whispered barely audibly, burying her face in her knees.
Viktor paused for a moment, but quickly put the pieces together. In this feral pack of werewolves, everything operated by the law of the jungle: when food was brought, you had to fight for it. The little girl was used to staying behind, meekly waiting for the older ones to gorge themselves so she could pick at whatever was left over. If anything was left at all.
Viktor let out a heavy, audible sigh and flicked his hand. In that instant, a soft red mist enveloped the girl. When it dissipated, she was wearing a thick, high-quality jacket and warm trousers tailored perfectly to her size.
A bulky paper bag bearing the McDonald's logo materialized in Viktor's hand — he had bought the food in bulk at a London restaurant. The youth gently offered the bag to the girl.
— There's enough food here for everyone, — he said gently yet firmly. — So take it and eat. And don't be afraid of anyone ever again.
The girl took the bag cautiously, clutching it tightly to her chest, and looked up timidly at her savior.
— That's better, — Viktor nodded approvingly, gently patting her messy hair. Turning toward the exit, he called over his shoulder: — I'll be back soon.
The little girl watched his retreating back spellbound, then looked down at the bright bag in her hands. Once he vanished from view, the trembling in her body stopped completely, and she straightened up noticeably.
— Lily... is he really going to save us? — a slightly older girl asked softly, stepping up beside her.
— I don't know, — Lily replied quietly, her voice laced with a newfound firmness. — But it looks like something in our lives is definitely about to change.
She stepped forward with conviction, walking past the dead bodies of the werewolves. The boys who were ravenously scarfing down food by the wall hurriedly grabbed their rations and backed away in silence, clearing a path for her.
Lily fearlessly knelt before the corpses, quickly rummaging through their pockets until she came across a magic wand. Pulling it out, she thought about keeping it, but after a moment's reflection, slipped it back into the dead man's pocket.
Retreating to the farthest corner of the cave, Lily sat on the stones and finally opened her bag with care. Taking out a cardboard box, she inspected it curiously from all sides — having grown up in the magical world, she had never seen food like this before.
A round, fluffy bun sprinkled with tiny white seeds. It glinted with a soft sheen, and beneath it, like layers of a pie, peeked a stack of different ingredients. How was she even supposed to eat this? Her mouth definitely wouldn't open that wide! Yet she pressed the burger together and took a bite.
Her eyes widened. Rich, tangy, sweet, and savory — all at once! At first it felt incredibly bizarre, but in her mouth, the flavors blended into a perfect balance. Her mouth and hands got messy, but she didn't care one bit — she began devouring it greedily.