The Undetectable Extension Charm was a remarkable bit of magic, capable of expanding a container to hold near-infinite space within fixed dimensions.
Newt Scamander, author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, owned a trunk enchanted with this spell. His trunk was practically a traveling zoo, complete with a fully stocked potion lab and vast sections divided into different environments to house magical creatures.
Of course, that level of craftsmanship wasn't something just anyone could achieve. Calling it "expensive" would be an understatement—it was truly one of a kind. It was likely made with help from the Elder Wand in Dumbledore's hands. If Leonard ever mastered the Undetectable Extension Charm, he might try making one of his own.
The trunk in front of him was nothing like Scamander's masterpiece. Its space was far more limited, suited only for storing valuables.
A kerosene lamp lit the confined area, revealing three shelves stacked with various materials.
A glance told Leonard they were all processed semi-finished products, with no fresh magical plants in sight.
Still, there were plenty of magical creature parts. Leonard wasn't too familiar with them and would probably need to check his textbooks.
Tonight's haul was more than satisfying.
He stepped out of the trunk, lifted it in his hand, and prepared to head back to the Leaky Cauldron.
As for the old witch's body… she could rot here.
He tossed the key onto her corpse, pushed the door open, and looked out at the empty street. Just as he was about to leave, his chest tightened.
His instincts as a Scavenger reminded him of one thing.
In every place, local habits reflected survival rules. There was no way the residents here hadn't heard the explosion—but they'd all chosen, wordlessly, to stay indoors.
It wasn't because they were law-abiding citizens. In Knockturn Alley, when something that loud went off, the danger outside spiked.
Otherwise, most residents' first instinct would have been to rush over and scavenge, not sit quietly at home.
The thought made Leonard feel as if monsters were prowling the dark street, hungry for blood. Without a second thought, he turned to slam the door shut.
Just then, hurried, uneven footsteps drew near. Before Leonard could react, a hand shot out, jamming the door.
The door was forced open, and a figure reeking of blood and charred flesh slipped inside at shocking speed, shutting it firmly behind them.
Leonard instinctively raised his wand to blast the intruder, but the stranger seized his hand before he could cast.
"Don't make a sound," rasped a hoarse voice, strangely familiar. "I'll leave soon. If we're found, it won't just be me who dies—you will too."
Leonard had been ready to sic the Chomping Cabbage on the intruder, but that voice made him hesitate.
In the moonlight streaming through the window, he saw the woman's face clearly.
It was the same woman who had come to his aid earlier that day. Now, though, she looked battered—her body marked by deep wounds torn by some unknown weapon, the stench of burnt flesh clinging to her.
Anyone else would already be dead from injuries like that, certainly not still moving around.
And the woman clearly recognized Leonard as well.
"It's you?" Midgard frowned slightly at the sight of Leonard, but her gaze quickly shifted to the corpse on the floor.
The bite marks on its neck made her raise an eyebrow.
"I thought you were a harmless little lamb. Turns out you're a young wolf with teeth," she said coolly.
What kind of description is that supposed to be?
Leonard pursed his lips and gestured at his wrist. "Mind letting go?"
Midgard hesitated, glanced once more at the body, then released him.
It wasn't that she thought Leonard harmless. The torn wound on the corpse's neck was clearly nothing a wand had done. Holding his wand hand was pointless—it might even provoke him.
Leonard winced and rubbed his wrist. Just from that brief grip, a red mark had already appeared, and it would probably swell soon.
She really didn't know her own strength.
He grumbled inwardly, then looked at Midgard's battered figure. Covered in wounds, she looked half-dead.
"You're being hunted?" he asked.
"Not obvious enough?" she shot back.
"But with all those wounds… won't your blood trail give you away?" Leonard pressed, sticking to his rule of looking after his own life first.
"That's not your concern. Tracking and counter-tracking—I have enough experience in both," Midgard said coldly.
"So that explosion just now—was it you?"
"Don't you think you talk too much?" Midgard gave him a sidelong glance.
"Hey, you're under my protection."
"This house isn't yours." Her eyes flicked toward the corpse, making it clear she wasn't about to take the moral high ground.
From the moment she saw the body, Midgard stopped treating Leonard as a child. Her words carried no courtesy.
"You…" Leonard muttered, suddenly uneasy. Then he saw her expression twist, her pupils narrowing into slits.
"Hey, what are you doing?" He jumped back, retreating two steps in alarm.
The woman's strength was terrifying. In this cramped room, even if the Chomping Cabbage managed to take her down, he'd likely end up dead first.
This was dangerous.
"He's here," Midgard whispered, glancing at Leonard.
"He? Who?" Leonard blinked in confusion.
The atmosphere… why did it feel so wrong?
He was only eleven. Did it really need to be this intense?
"Greyback. Fenrir Greyback," Midgard said, enunciating each word.