Harry Potter: The Bard of Hogwarts

As dusk settled over the valley, Ino scribbled a quick note and left it on the tavern counter before departing with Hermione. They figured the Grimm brothers deserved an uninterrupted night's sleep after the long conversation.

———

The next morning, Ino opened the tavern, caught up with the regulars, then returned to his dormitory around noon.

It was the weekend. With some free time on his hands, Ino planned to take a trip to Hogsmeade. Since he had officially decided to build a house in the valley, there were a few essentials he needed to buy. Not just living supplies—he also planned to order some herb seeds to cover the barren land around his new home with something a little more... green.

But the moment he stepped out of his room, he froze.

The atmosphere in the Slytherin common room wasn't eerie—it was just loud. Suspiciously loud.

Now, this was a weekend. Typically, students from third year and above would be off wandering Hogsmeade, buying trinkets, sweets, or just stretching their legs. Even if you didn't plan to buy anything, getting out of the castle was a breath of fresh air.

It was a bit like those Muggle boarding schools where the town right outside the gates always felt way more exciting than the campus itself. You could just stand outside the school walls, stare at nothing, and still feel freer than you did inside.

But today...

Ino looked around. Oh boy.

The common room was packed. Practically overflowing with students.

"Ino! Over here!" Draco called, waving from the corner.

At the same time, Goyle wordlessly got up and gave Ino his seat, standing aside like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ino smiled and nodded at Goyle in thanks, and the latter scratched his head with a goofy grin.

"What's going on?" Ino asked as he sat down, genuinely puzzled.

"Something big happened!" Draco said, practically vibrating with excitement.

"Remember the guy in the news last week? That Potions Master... what's his name again?"

"Damocles Belby," Ino answered without hesitation.

"Yes! That's the one!" Draco nodded furiously, clearly pleased. "The papers said he went missing—but guess what? Turns out he was kidnapped by werewolves!"

Draco launched into full storytelling mode, his voice rising and falling dramatically as he explained what had happened while Ino had been hosting the Greene brothers.

Apparently, that very morning, werewolves had raided an apothecary in Diagon Alley. Several people were injured before the Ministry Aurors arrived—but by then, the attackers had stolen a large amount of valuable herbs and vanished.

Werewolves robbing shops in broad daylight and attacking wizards? That sort of brazen violence hadn't been seen in centuries. Naturally, the magical community was in full panic mode.

But that wasn't even the most shocking part.

In the aftermath, the Aurors managed to capture a few of the werewolves involved. During interrogation—likely with a little help from Veritaserum or a particularly persuasive Legilimens—they discovered that Damocles Belby had indeed been kidnapped. He'd been forced to brew Wolfsbane Potion non-stop under the Imperius Curse.

And while that was disturbing, it wasn't what made jaws hit the floor across wizarding Britain.

No, the real thunderclap was this:

The werewolves had started converting Muggles.

Now, some quick werewolf facts: The lycanthropic infection—commonly known as wolfbite fever—is spread via saliva or blood, but only when the werewolf is in its transformed state under the full moon. At that time, they're utterly mindless, attacking anything that moves.

This is why nearly all known werewolves are wizards. Wizards have at least some chance of surviving an attack. Muggles? Not so much.

But things had changed.

In recent months, the werewolves had started organizing—fuelled by long-standing discrimination, resentment, and probably a few charismatic lunatics. The Ministry, reluctant to provoke another Voldemort-style uprising, had responded with vague reassurances and half-hearted suppression rather than decisive action.

And that worked about as well as putting a sticking charm on a broken dam.

Now, the werewolves had grown bold—recklessly so—and had begun converting Muggles on purpose.

They weren't just biting anyone. No, they were selective.

They targeted the downtrodden: homeless people, addicts, anyone already marginalized and vulnerable. People who wouldn't be missed. People desperate enough to believe the lie that becoming a werewolf meant gaining power and community.

Worse still, with a steady supply of Wolfsbane, these newly turned werewolves retained their minds during full moons. That meant they could choose who to bite. And who not to kill.

The Pandora's box had been opened.

Muggle-born werewolves couldn't use magic—but that didn't make them harmless. Physically stronger than any human, armed with guns and batons, and coordinated by veteran wizard-werewolves, they had no trouble overpowering small groups of Aurors.

That's exactly what happened during the Diagon Alley raid. Dozens of gun-toting werewolves descended on the apothecary, and the local Auror unit was absolutely steamrolled.

Draco's eyes were wide as he spoke, clearly still processing everything.

"They say just in London alone, there might be over two thousand of them. That's just the ones they can estimate—and it doesn't even count other cities... or other countries."

Draco looked stunned. And so did Ino.

"Yeah…" Ino said quietly. "This really is a disaster."

It was like watching a single spark ignite a forest. One variable had shifted—and suddenly the entire game board was aflame.

The biggest variable, of course, was Voldemort. The Ministry, too scared of provoking the Dark Lord's followers, had tried to avoid cracking down on werewolf enclaves. That hesitation had let the situation spiral.

And now? Even if Voldemort himself rose again, Ino doubted he could stop the chaos that was unfolding.

Wizards might fear Voldemort. But Muggles? They had no reason to care—and with guns and werewolf muscle, they weren't so defenseless anymore.

The world wasn't heading toward peace. That much was clear. Hogwarts being placed under complete lockdown was proof enough: the Ministry had lost control.

And the Muggle governments? Who knew how long they could keep the lid on this.

"What do we do, Ino?" Draco whispered.

And immediately regretted it.

Even though he'd kept his voice low, the moment the words left his mouth, the entire common room fell silent.

Every head turned. Every eye focused on Ino.

Slytherins might be arrogant, even cruel—but they weren't stupid. Even Goyle could feel the weight of the moment.

Ino looked around at the dozens of faces—fearful, anxious, expectant. He didn't have a plan. Not yet.

He wasn't afraid of Voldemort. Not even afraid of individual enemies. But this? This was like a magical zombie apocalypse. There was no single villain to defeat. Just an unstoppable tide.

And to make matters worse, these new werewolves could blend in among the Muggle population when not transformed. Finding them would be like trying to fish out shadows in the ocean.

Still… he had to say something.

He took a breath.

"If it were up to me," Ino said slowly, "I'd tell your families to move closer to Hogsmeade. Wizards should stick together, and being near Hogwarts means we can look out for each other."

He said it to Draco, but it was clear everyone heard him.

Within minutes, students were dashing off to send messages. The Slytherin dorms emptied as owls were retrieved and letters sent.

So many owls took flight from the castle, it looked like the sky itself had feathers.

Naturally, the flurry of activity caught the attention of the other Houses. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors soon got wind of what was happening—and they started sending letters too.

Even the school's post owl, Puffball, got caught up in the frenzy, hooting grumpily as she was buried under a mound of scrolls.

———

Werewolves

Ministry of Magic Classification: XXXXX (a.k.a. Extremely Dangerous)

Werewolves are heavily stigmatized in wizarding Britain. Despite Muggles being more numerous, wizards are more often attacked—largely because they tend to poke dangerous creatures with sticks labeled "research."

The Ministry's policy on werewolves has historically been... chaotic. Management has wavered between classifying them as "beasts" or "beings." (Spoiler: neither worked.)

The Werewolf Capture Unit and Registry fall under the Beast Division, while the Werewolf Support Services Office (which saw zero attendance and was quickly shut down) was part of the Being Division.

In 1637, the Ministry passed a law requiring werewolves to register and lock themselves up during full moons. Shockingly, no one wanted to admit they were a werewolf. Go figure.

Even today, many newly bitten werewolves hide their condition to avoid being ostracized.

The Wolfsbane Potion, invented in the late 20th century, remains the most effective way to control the effects of transformation.