Emerging from the Room of Requirement, Aiden found two familiar figures waiting for him in the corridor.
"..." Aiden paused, his expression carefully neutral.
"Have you made new friends, Aiden?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Aiden is at just the right age for making friends, isn't he?" Professor Lupin added, wearing a worn cardigan with numerous pockets that gave him a distinctly homely appearance.
"So, are the headmaster and professor here to catch randomly spawning delinquent students? I don't recall it being curfew time yet," Aiden replied with mock innocence.
As if summoned by his words, the curfew bell began to toll across the castle.
The smiles on both teachers' faces grew even more pronounced.
"Alright, Aiden, enough games. I mentioned before that I wanted you to meet someone," Dumbledore said, steering the conversation back on track.
"So the person you wanted me to meet is Professor Lupin. I see—a werewolf," Aiden observed, his tone matter-of-fact.
"How did you know?" Lupin asked, genuine surprise flickering across his weathered features.
"I can sense it. Your magic carries the scent of moonlight," Aiden replied, offering a half-truth wrapped in mystique.
"Have you studied werewolves before?" Dumbledore asked, catching the deeper implications in Aiden's words.
"Some insights from my trip to Egypt," Aiden said with a slight smile. "Though are we really going to discuss this standing in a corridor?"
"Let's adjourn to my office," Dumbledore suggested, leading them toward the spiral staircase.
After ascending Dumbledore's favorite gargoyle elevator, the trio entered the headmaster's circular office. Aiden immediately collapsed onto the plush sofa, arching his back against the cushions like a contented cat.
He snapped his fingers with casual authority. "Lemon juice, if you please."
Aiden's complete ease in the headmaster's private sanctum made Lupin glance at him sideways. Noticing the professor's discomfort, Dumbledore smoothly intervened.
"Remus, would you care for something?"
"Butterbeer, perhaps," Lupin replied, still adjusting to the surreal situation.
Drinks and an assortment of sweets materialized before them. Without ceremony, Aiden began sampling the treats as if he owned the place.
"Tell us about your discoveries in Egypt, Aiden," Dumbledore prompted, settling back with his hot chocolate.
Aiden swallowed a sip of his lemon juice before beginning. "Professor, Egypt—as one of the world's ancient magical civilizations—maintains some of the most comprehensive werewolf records in existence."
He paused to organize his thoughts. "Thanks to a certain individual's intervention, I gained access to ancient texts that most scholars never see. Many contained detailed accounts of lycanthropic transformation."
"Continue," Dumbledore encouraged.
"I suspect you hoped I could replicate the Greengrass family's success—using Silencing Charms combined with alchemical matrices to dispel the werewolf 'curse.' Unfortunately, I must inform you that lycanthropy isn't actually a curse."
"Not a curse?" Lupin leaned forward intently. "Could you elaborate?"
"Uncle Remus, think carefully—after each transformation, have you ever experienced any loss of life force? Any weakening of your magical core?"
Lupin's brow furrowed as he considered. "No... no, I haven't."
"The werewolf 'curse,' strictly speaking, represents a failed attempt by ancient wizards to achieve controlled magical creature transformation," Aiden explained. "It's an incomplete metamorphosis, not a malevolent enchantment."
"But what about the infectious nature?" Dumbledore interjected.
"Professor, both you and I come from old wizarding bloodlines. Our family records should confirm that early magical creature transformations weren't hereditary—they required direct intervention."
Aiden's voice took on a darker tone. "Yes, through blood fusion or, in modern terms, external injection. Ancient wizards, seeking to eliminate the need for such dangerous procedures, developed two approaches. First, genetic modification to make the transformation hereditary. Second..."
He let the sentence hang, and Lupin completed it with growing understanding. "Infection."
"Viral transmission is swift and efficient, but when they combined both methods..." Aiden's words carried the weight of ancient tragedy. "The results became catastrophically uncontrollable."
Drawing upon his experiences from the Deep Realm's second layer, Aiden extracted silvery memories and deposited them into Dumbledore's Pensieve. The basin drew all three into a vivid recreation of that brutal era—witnessing the birth, proliferation, and eventual massacre of the first werewolves.
"Dear God," Lupin gasped as they emerged from the memory, his face pale and drawn.
"Truly a dark chapter in our history," Dumbledore said solemnly, while Aiden appeared remarkably unaffected.
Their gazes toward Lupin seemed to ask: How are you more shaken than an elderly wizard and a teenager?
"Now that we understand the past, we must consider how to address the future," Dumbledore declared.
"We'll need specialized instruments for analysis. I have access to such equipment, though I'm uncertain whether Professor Lupin can withstand the process," Aiden said meaningfully.
"Take him," Dumbledore replied without hesitation. "Anyone who survived Tom's ritual yet can still speak his name aloud possesses extraordinary inner strength."
"Very well, you're the authority here," Aiden conceded.
While two master strategists conversed in riddles, Lupin remained thoroughly lost.
Aiden withdrew a vial of alchemical solution and began inscribing complex patterns on the office floor.
"Careful with those etchings," Dumbledore complained mildly. "Do you have any idea how difficult these tiles are to repair?"
"Hmph," the irritated dragon muttered, intensifying his carving motions out of spite.
Soon, an intricate alchemical matrix with otherworldly geometries was complete.
"Both of you, step into the circle," Aiden instructed.
As Dumbledore and Lupin positioned themselves within the pattern, Aiden activated the matrix. Brilliant white light erupted, and both men collapsed unconscious onto the office floor.
The Collective Unconscious Sea—Avalon
Dumbledore and Lupin opened their eyes to find themselves in a realm of impossible beauty—where crystalline streams sang and flowers bloomed in colors that had no earthly names.
"This is the goblin refuge—Avalon?" Dumbledore asked, his vast knowledge immediately placing their location.
"Indeed, though it's my private domain now," Aiden replied, his delicate features wearing a satisfied expression.
"Why bring us here?" Lupin asked, still marveling at their surroundings.
"Didn't the Department of Mysteries claim Avalon's control core was lost?" both men asked simultaneously.
"I'll address your questions in order," Aiden said, extending his palm. A staff materialized in his grip. "First, the control core is in my possession. Second, the psychic cloud server that the Department and I developed requires that core to properly analyze Professor Lupin's condition."
With a graceful wave of his staff, two luminous clouds rose from the ground, carrying the trio toward Avalon's heart.
They soon arrived before a magnificent stone array carved with intricate pathways and glowing with inner light.
"This is..." Dumbledore breathed, clearly awed by the alchemical masterpiece.
Lupin was equally transfixed.
"Welcome to our Phase One project—the psychic cloud server," Aiden announced proudly. "Though that Director insists on calling it a 'virtual particle computer,' despite my objections."
After the brief tour, Aiden guided them to the central matrix.
"Professor, if you would lie down here," Aiden instructed.
Once Lupin complied, Dumbledore raised a practical concern. "Remus's physical body remains in my office. Can this scan provide meaningful results?"
"What do you think that alchemical matrix was for?" Aiden replied with exasperation. "If I merely wanted to show you the sights, I wouldn't have needed such elaborate preparations."
The server hummed to life, exchanging data through the matrix connection. Within moments, results materialized in streams of glowing text.
"What's the verdict?" Lupin asked anxiously.
"As expected—lunar magic is the culprit, deeply embedded in your magical signature," Aiden summarized, studying the readout.
"Can it be removed?" Dumbledore's expression was grave. He understood how notoriously difficult moon-aspected magic could be to counter.
"Perhaps we should reconsider our approach entirely," Aiden suggested thoughtfully. "Since the lunar magic cannot be completely eliminated, why not complete the transformation instead?"
"How confident are you in such a procedure?" Dumbledore asked carefully.
"With your assistance and Professor McGonagall's expertise, combined with my research, I believe our chances are quite favorable," Aiden replied.
"I'll do it," Lupin declared before Dumbledore could respond.
"Remus, you should consider—" Dumbledore began.
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore, but I've endured enough of this loss of control," Lupin interrupted, rare excitement brightening his features. "If there's a chance to master this condition rather than be mastered by it, I must take it."
Dumbledore could only sigh deeply, recognizing the determination in his former student's voice.