This forest glade was bathed in the bright moonlight.

There were terrible roars all around, and the limbs of those sitting quietly by the tree stump began to tremble.

Their heads are elongating, and so are their bodies. Their shoulders are arched, and hair appears on their faces and hands. They are clearly visible in the moonlight. Their hands curl up and deform quickly into claws. Between the ferocious teeth, there seems to be a flicker of light.

A very terrible chill.

"It's begun——"

Lockhart placed a small hourglass at his feet, stood up, and looked around at the horrific purgatory-like scene around him.

"Gilderoy Lockhart, you can also call me - the Hanged Man. Stand still, don't be blown too far."

He raised his wand and pointed it forward.

A strong hurricane appeared out of thin air, repelling all the werewolves that rushed from the front of the hut.

Magic is not just a coma spell.

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Chapter completed!