"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 338: I Am a Werewolf, But More Than That, I Am Myself
Lupin's expression was gentle and calm.
"Yes. By my sixth month on the new potion, I finally dared to walk into the Hogwarts study hall on the night of a full moon. I watched students practicing spells beneath its silver light, instead of hiding away in my office, counting the cracks between bricks."
At the back, Sirius rubbed his head, trying not to laugh. His old friend had been completely corrupted by Douglas. Ever since taking the new Wolfsbane Potion, every full moon had meant hotpot in Douglas's office—when had it ever been as tragic as he made it sound?
Off in the distance, Dumbledore's long beard twitched. He'd joined them for hotpot on more than one full moon—never once had anyone been left counting bricks.
With a tap of his wand on the crystal orb, five potion bottles of different colors hovered in the air. Below them, a line of luminous text appeared.
"What truly shook me was Douglas's philosophy of healing: that treatment shouldn't be about hating our 'wolf nature,' but about embracing our humanity."
"Traditional Wolfsbane made us feel like mistakes needing to be corrected. But this new potion made me realize: being a werewolf is not a curse—it's simply a magical chessboard that needs patient care."
"When we nourish the liver with sourness, or comfort the spleen with sweetness, we're really telling our bodies: 'I accept every part of you. I'll cherish both the gentleness of the human and the strength of the wolf.'"
"Please, pass these words to every werewolf in the wizarding world still struggling in pain: When your liver begins to heal, when your lungs are no longer clouded, when your heart can beat calmly beneath the moon, the world's gaze will no longer feel like a Dementor's chill—because you, before anyone else, have learned to accept yourself with tenderness."
"As Douglas wrote at the bottom of his formula: 'True healing begins with teaching your body it deserves to be treated gently.'"
"If you're afraid to show your scars to the world, remember—there is always a magical lamp burning for you in the Shrieking Shack."
"And finally, let me borrow a saying from the East: 'Superior medicine heals the heart, average medicine heals the person, inferior medicine heals the disease.' The new Wolfsbane Potion is superior medicine—not only healing the body, but teaching us to make peace with our own shadows.
When the next full moon rises, let us stand in the sunlight—not as werewolves barely clinging to human form, but as whole, healed wizards, able to say with pride: I am a werewolf, but more than that, I am myself..."
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Thunderous applause erupted.
In that moment, whether or not anyone still harbored fear of Lupin's werewolf nature, every heart was moved by his words.
The photographer captured this historic scene—a self-proclaimed werewolf whose speech resonated with so many.
Lupin kept his warm smile, waving to the crowd.
"I have a small suggestion. So as not to disturb the other examinees, would it be all right if this werewolf joined you all for lunch?"
"Yes!"
"Of course, Professor Lupin!"
"What's the big deal? Don't we eat together every day anyway?"
The students burst out in agreement. Even those who still had their doubts kept silent.
As Lupin finished, Sirius—grinning ear to ear—pulled a small bell from his pocket.
Seeing the bell, students nearby instinctively edged away.
But as Sirius rang it—
Dobby, dressed in a crisp, elegant butler's uniform, appeared at the head of a group of twenty Hogwarts house-elves.
Each house-elf wore a scarf emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest and carried a box, but all kept a noticeable distance from Dobby.
Their eyes clearly showed their disdain.
"Dobby, Professor Holmes's loyal butler, is honored to serve you all!"
Though the other house-elves considered Dobby a traitor to their kind, they followed his arrangements out of respect for Douglas.
They quickly set up camping gear from the boxes around the Quidditch pitch, laying out a feast of magical delicacies.
The photographer captured this magical scene as well.
Then, hurried along by the reporter, he dashed for the Hogwarts gates—they had to get this world-shaking story out as quickly as possible.
While everyone was bustling about, a single owl slipped silently from the headmaster's office, winging its way toward London.
Hogwarts Great Hall
After their morning exams, students gathered to eat and cram for the afternoon's tests.
The fifth- and seventh-years, so relaxed just yesterday, were now a bundle of nerves.
The seventh-years managed to keep their composure—faces grim, but not falling apart.
The fifth-years, however, could no longer hold back.
For the first time ever, Gryffindors and Slytherins were united in cursing the same target.
"Monsters!"
"The Examinations Authority has gone mad!"
"Not a single exam is the same!"
"Randomized questions—every test generated on the spot!"
"And graded right then and there!"
"I spent ages practicing the Patronus Charm, and now it probably won't even get me points!"
Students from other years exchanged glances.
"What's wrong with them?"
"I heard the Examinations Authority is using the Chamber of Secrets as a new exam site."
Fourth-years looked at each other, worried.
"Is it just this year, or will all exams be like this from now on?"
"I heard this is the new standard."
"But we lower years aren't allowed to take part in that game!"
"Isn't that unfair for the O.W.L. exams?"
Hermione and Harry looked around, puzzled.
"Why is the Great Hall half empty?"
"Weren't Ron and the others off at some lecture? Who's speaking, anyway? It's still not over?"
London, Ministry of Magic
At lunchtime, the Ministry cafeteria was filled with the scent of roast meats and pumpkin pasties.
The Minister for Magic stood with a steaming cup of tea, chatting with his department heads.
Suddenly, an owl swooped down, dropping an envelope bearing the Hogwarts crest right beside Fudge's plate.
Fudge picked it up, smiling at the others.
"Looks like Mr. Dumbledore has something important to discuss. Please, enjoy your lunch—I'll take care of this first."
The department heads were used to Fudge writing to Dumbledore for advice, so no one thought much of it.
But as Fudge turned away toward his office, his expression grew serious. He hadn't written to Dumbledore recently, and to receive a letter from him, out of the blue and at lunchtime, could only mean trouble.
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