The new Alpha, whose name was Dirk, watched with grim satisfaction as his people hurriedly searched the corpses of their kin who had perished from the basilisk's gaze. First and foremost, they were gathering wands—in their criminal underground, this tool was always in dire shortage, and no one intended to throw away such valuable loot.
— Dirk! Dirk, we got the kid! — two winded werewolves ran up to him, breathing heavily and stumbling over the stones.
The leader raised an eyebrow in confusion:
— What kid?
— You know, the one with the snake! Orochimaru!
Dirk frowned in irritation and spat on the ground:
— That you're an idiot, I already knew. Got anything useful?
— No, listen! — one of the werewolves shook his head frantically. — He somehow survived the cave-in! That bastard just popped out of the south tunnel and killed two of ours right off the bat. But I reacted in time and personally blasted his head with a curse! That's it, he's dead!
— Dirk, that little bastard is alive! — at that moment, another group of werewolves burst into the hall, their eyes wide with wild terror. — We just ran into him by the eastern passages! Damn it, that freak almost tore me to shreds, good thing I was faster and finished him off on the spot!
The first werewolf stared at the newcomers in surprise:
— What?! What the hell are you talking about? We just killed him by the south passage!
— Who did you kill over there?
— The boy, Orochimaru!
— Yeah, right! Then who do you think I just smeared across the wall?!
Listening to the werewolves starting to scream furiously at each other, spraying saliva, Dirk felt his right eye begin to twitch nervously.
— SILENCE! — he roared at the top of his lungs.
The Alpha's mighty roar forced the arguers to instantly shut up and pull their heads into their shoulders in fear.
— Can any one of you idiots clearly explain what the hell is going on here?! — Dirk hissed through gritted teeth.
— Boss, you won't believe it... — another werewolf ran into the hall, nearly slipping on the blood-slick stones.
— Let me guess, — Dirk said with a venomous, bitter smirk, drilling a heavy glare into the runner. — You also just heroically finished off the kid with the snake?
— What? No! — he gasped out, stuttering and frantically catching his breath. — But I saw him literally a minute ago! That little demon is completely alive and wandering the corridors right now!
— Don't freak out, we already snuffed him! — the first snapped back.
— I'm the one who killed him, dumbass! — barked the second.
— Stop talking nonsense! — the third shrieked. — I just saw him with my own eyes walking down the passage! He's alive!
— Stop this instantly! — Dirk growled wildly, cutting off the brewing fight.
Cold sweat rolled down his back. The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control.
— Listen to me carefully, — he continued, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. — I don't know what kind of black magic is going on here, but it seems this brat is still alive and just playing with us. Pass the word to everyone: immediately form squads of at least five people and comb every corner! Find him and kill him!
The werewolves didn't need to be told twice and immediately rushed to carry out the order.
— And you two, — Dirk turned sharply to the wizards collecting the wands of the deceased, — stop looting! Quickly gather teams and block all the exits! We can't let him slip away. If he gets out of here alive and tells the Ministry about us, they'll launch a full-scale hunt, and we're not ready for that yet.
— Damn it, how did that little freak manage to survive a blast like that?! — one of the werewolves asked on the run, breathing heavily.
— No idea! — his partner called back, rushing down the dark corridor after the third guide. — Hey, where exactly did you see him?
— At the food storage! — the werewolf running in front called back confidently—the very same one who had been the last to report to Dirk. — Hurry. If we kill this squirt ourselves before the rest find him, we'll gain some major favor in the eyes of the new boss!
The buddies exchanged glances and nodded in agreement. The prospect of earning Dirk's favor so easily clouded their minds to the point that they didn't even notice their guide's strange, icy smile.
Finding a few more people along the way, a squad of six werewolves reached the heavy wooden doors of the storehouse. Gripping their wands tightly, they burst inside all at once and... froze dead in their tracks on the threshold.
The entire floor of the storage room was littered with the corpses of their kin who had come here for supplies.
— What the hell is going on here... gh-k-k!..
The remaining ones whipped around at their comrade's dry wheeze and ran cold with horror. A clawed hand jutted out from their buddy's chest, having punched straight through ribs and flesh. When the claws ripped back out with a whistle, the unfortunate man instantly collapsed onto the stone slabs.
Standing behind his back with the utmost composure was the very same werewolf who had just led them here. Crimson fluid dripped lazily from his bloody fingers onto the ground.
— What... what are you doing, you bastard?! — one of the wizards screamed in terror, backing away. — Why did you kill him?!
The imposter werewolf merely offered them a warm, friendly smile in response:
— So, your new Alpha is named Dirk? And how long has this promising individual been hanging around the wolves?
The werewolves frowned—it finally dawned on them that this was no kin of theirs, but a lethal enemy who had assumed a fake identity. Without hesitating another second, they raised their wands.
Inside the enclosed space of the storehouse, several spells snapped dryly, after which everything fell instantly silent.
Victor slowly stepped out of the storage room. Burning the blood off his hand with a small spark of magic, he let out a tired sigh:
— Minus five more... I wonder how many of them are left in there? Have I cut down at least a third yet?
Victor killed stragglers or used his Sharingan to force whole groups of werewolves to slaughter each other in bloody paranoia. In all this chaos, he had long lost count of how many wizards he had sent to the grave, though it didn't matter—he hadn't known their exact numbers to begin with.
The youth cast an annoyed glance at the bracelet on his wrist, beneath the guise of which the colossal basilisk was currently sleeping undisturbed.
— Damn useless worm... — Victor muttered. — I didn't prepare for this kind of heavy lifting at all! Everything was supposed to go as simply as possible: we go in, you kill everyone with your glare, and we walk out calmly. So why do I have to run around catacombs and dirty my own hands now?
Victor sighed heavily and peered into the dark depths of the empty corridor.
— Alright, I need to speed up, otherwise Antoine will start worrying and come down here himself.
He had a rough idea of the power level of the combat wizards Perenelle had sent. And while these werewolves didn't boast high spellcasting mastery, there were still too many of them, and they were fighting on their home turf.
— I should have finished them off immediately while they were stunned and demoralized by the basilisk's appearance... Damn it, with my stupid love for theatricality, I'm definitely going to cross the line one day.
Victor shook his head and gave a short smirk. In the next second, his body smoothly dissolved, turning into an immaterial cloud of thick crimson smoke that rapidly whisked away down the corridor with a soft hiss.
Dirk, accompanied by several of his inner circle, grimly inspected cave after cave, and the more he saw, the more he froze in terror. Breathless bodies of his people lay everywhere. When they finally reached Fenrir Greyback's personal quarters, the new Alpha was completely struck dumb: dozens of dead werewolves lay here, and judging by the wounds and the arrangement of the bodies, they had slaughtered each other.
— Did they... seriously stage a massacre here and kill each other? — one of the werewolves whispered in shock, looking over the pile of corpses.
— Nothing surprising, — another replied gloomily, turning one of the bodies over with his foot. — Greyback's rooms were probably hiding piles of Galleons the old man had been hoarding for years. Looks like these idiots just couldn't share the loot.
— Dirk, we need to get the hell out of here right now, — one of the young leader's close friends said quietly but urgently.
They had both realized long ago that the boy who had barged in on them was no ordinary child. And even though they desperately hated the thought of leaving empty-handed—since starting over from scratch on the run would be brutally hard—staying here any longer amounted to suicide.
Dirk agreed. He had been trembling for a while now; he would have run away long ago, but he hadn't wanted to look like a coward in front of his people. But enough was enough—he was far too terrified. Without thinking twice, he pressed the tip of his wand to his throat.
— EVERYONE LISTEN TO ME! — his magic-amplified voice echoed like thunder through the farthest nooks of the underground caves. — WE ARE LEAVING IMMEDIATELY! DROP EVERYTHING! TAKE NOTHING, FORM GROUPS, AND HEAD FOR THE EXITS ON THE DOUBLE! THAT IS AN ORDER!
At that very moment, an unimaginable panic broke out in the camp.
— Drop everything?! Did the Aurors find us?! — one of the werewolves in a distant tunnel yelled in fear, frantically throwing bags of stored provisions onto the ground.
— I don't know! Let me get out of here!
The panic proved contagious. Everywhere, werewolves who only a minute ago had been greedily stuffing their pockets with valuable belongings and gold were now tossing their loot beneath their feet in horror, thinking only of how to escape this cursed place as quickly as possible.