Good or bad, does it matter?{HP}

A few minutes earlier, outside, two men hid in a small green ravine about a hundred meters from the house. One of them was grinning contentedly as he peered through slightly enhanced Muggle binoculars, watching a young man calmly reading a book by the window.

The second man, however, looked tense, his gaze constantly darting around the house as if expecting a trap. He found the situation hard to believe; it couldn't be this easy. He remembered all the information provided by their unknown employer. Though the job seemed straightforward, many details unsettled him.

For instance, there was limited information about the supposed number of wolves and about Ichiros, a figure rumored to rival Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in England. Moreover, the reward was suspiciously high, even for a potion maker of exceptional skill and reputation. But what truly raised his alarm was the mystery surrounding their employer. Usually, employers tried to keep their identities hidden, but when even the guild leader couldn't provide any clues, it made him wary. And the mysterious disappearance of five squads sent to scout the target only deepened his concern.

Whenever he voiced his doubts to the head of their group, he was dismissed, often with a few mocking remarks like "timid chicken" or "coward," along with the clichéd saying, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." Despite the ridicule, his instincts, which rarely failed him, screamed at him to get out while he still could. 'To hell with it all,' he thought. 'Even if I'm wrong, there will be more gold to earn later. But I only have one life.' With one last look at his robed companion, he took out his wand, and in a flash, his body shrank and vanished.

"Weakling," muttered the remaining mercenary, not even bothering to turn around. He spat on the ground and continued to observe the young prince inside the house. "I'll need to find a more decisive tactician when we return," he thought. "If we hadn't listened to that coward on the last mission, we could've made an extra twenty thousand by raiding the target's treasury. Though maybe it's just as well…"

As he mused, a group of ten figures approached, each of them were the leaders of their own respective groups of twenty wizards. Their faces were obscured by hoods, but each held a wand, and they could barely contain their excitement. Two hundred thousand galleons awaited them if they succeeded, enough to indulge themselves for the next year without working.

While some of them had other motives, most mercenaries lived for fleeting pleasures, reveling in alcohol and vice. The captain turned to address them, his face hidden under his hood, grinning bloodthirstily as he drew his wand. "Get ready. We go in three minutes. When I give the signal, attack! The first five groups will take on the beasts, the sixth and seventh will cover them. Groups eight and nine, be ready in case Amon Ichiros shows up. My group and I will hit the house itself." He conjured a translucent map of the area, explaining the plan. Though a few seemed puzzled, no one objected.

"Clear?" he asked.

"Yes, Captain. But where's Henry?" one of them asked, noticing the usual tactician was absent.

"He left. To hell with that coward! When we complete this mission, we'll be two hundred thousand galleons richer!"

The mention of gold boosted everyone's spirits, their excitement reigniting.

"When we get back, we should hit that elite bar!"

"You're right!"

"No, I'm heading to the brothel. I'm finally ordering Ionna…" one mercenary sighed with a dreamy smile.

"Enough chatting!" the captain snapped, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Two minutes to prepare!"

The group chuckled, sinister smiles spreading across their faces as they made final adjustments. But then, a chill ran down their spines. Every single one of them froze, looking up at the enormous blue dome forming overhead, completely obscuring the dark sky and illuminating the forest.

"What the hell…?" one of them muttered, echoing the shock of the others.

"We've been noticed! Back to groups and—" the leader barked, but an indifferent, elderly voice interrupted him from behind.

"And…?"

They turned sharply to find an old wizard hovering in midair, his impassive, cold face exuding an intense heat.

"How did he…" one of the eleven tried to say, but flames consumed him before he could finish, leaving only a flash in his wake. His companions barely had time to react before another mercenary vanished, engulfed in flames.

"Did I give you permission to speak?" the old man asked in a chilling, muffled voice, his gaze settling on the leader. "Who are you, and why do you seek to attack this place?"

"We… we were just passing by," he began nervously, stepping forward with a hand behind his back. "We have no quarrel with anyone here. We just saw a gathering of wizards and grew curious about what was happening."

The others exchanged glances, tightening their grip on their wands, following subtle hand signals from their captain.

"Hmm? I see… come closer and let me look at your memories," the elderly wizard commanded, his voice leaving no room for defiance.

"Of course," the leader replied with a feigned smile, careful not to betray his thoughts. Cursing Henry internally for fleeing, he thought, 'If this is Ichiros, we've been played. How could anyone compare him to Dumbledore? This man is clearly far stronger.'

He was within three meters of the elderly wizard when three of his comrades behind him unleashed a powerful blast of white light, covering an area of several dozen meters.

"AQUA ERUCTO DUO!" they shouted, and massive jets of water burst from their wands, merging into a single stream nearly ten meters wide. The leader dove to the ground, retreating just as the old wizard raised his palm, creating a small red shield. The jets crashed into the barrier, filling the ravine with scalding steam.

"Ahh! It's too hot!" several wizards screamed as the steam enveloped them. Their robes clung to their bodies, and they couldn't see through the thick mist.

"Protego! Use Protego and retreat!" one of them shouted in panic.

Signals from his men began to fade one by one as the leader observed from a distance, gritting his teeth. He knew that even if he escaped, he couldn't save them. Better to live and report back to the guild, he reasoned, and collect fifty percent of the deposit as compensation. Perhaps it would be wise to disappear for a few years after this.

High above, Severus watched the retreating leader with a calm expression. He allowed him to pass through a small opening in the barrier, sparing him. But for the rest, his eyes flickered over the bodies lying in the ravine. "Take these eight to the cells. Kill the rest and have Eileen deal with the lingering death energy," he ordered.

"Yes, sir!" came a squeaky female voice, and the bodies disappeared.

"I should inform Arnold to investigate who put a price on my head. But maybe this is a blessing in disguise," he mused. "It gives my squad a chance to prove themselves, and Eileen has material for necromancy practice. This saves me from sneaking into Muggle prisons and even Azkaban." He sighed, making his way home. "Let's hope the mercenary guild leader has enough sense not to seek revenge, though that's doubtful given what I saw in John's memories."

A kitten appeared on his shoulder, its tiny claws flecked with blood.

"I told them not to release the cubs…" Severus sighed, scratching Lucky behind the ear.

"Meow!" Lucky purred, giving a proud little tap to his chest as if to say it was nothing.

"Yes, yes… I know," Severus chuckled, patting Lucky on the head, then resumed his walk.

"What kind of place is this?! We weren't warned that these wolves could breathe fire!" A man in a tattered, blood-stained robe stumbled out from behind a tree, his wand clutched in a shaking hand. He froze, seeing Severus up ahead. Before he could act, flames engulfed him, leaving nothing behind.

Severus continued his stroll toward the house, unfazed by the blood-smeared trees, the remnants of screams, and the cries for mercy echoing through the forest. "I'll have to remind the house-elves to clean up. I don't want the stench of blood lingering when I walk here."

Lucky nodded in agreement, wrinkling his nose at the scent.

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