"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 369: I Believe! Because He's Hufflepuff
Lupin's expression didn't change at all.
To him, Marcus's pointed skepticism was nothing more than a gentle breeze brushing across the hillside—expected, and hardly worth a flinch.
He understood all too well: those who'd spent their lives struggling in the gutters learned to squint at every glimmer of hope, inspecting it with suspicion before daring to believe. Douglas had anticipated this reaction from the start—and even provided several backup plans, just in case.
It was clear that Marcus already believed in the potion's authenticity—at least seventy or eighty percent. What really worried him were the Ministry's hidden motives, all the twists and turns lurking behind the scenes.
Lupin remained composed, speaking in his usual, measured tone.
"I know. I understand everyone's concerns."
He paused, letting his gaze sweep over the tense figures in the corner, their bodies stiffening at the mere mention of hope.
"That's why, this time, Mr. Holmes plans to bypass the Ministry of Magic entirely. He wants to offer the potion to you all through a different channel."
At the mention of Mr. Holmes, a faint light flickered in Marcus's cloudy eyes—a tremulous candle flame, wavering but not yet snuffed out.
Lupin caught the shift in his expression and pressed on.
"But we can't completely avoid the Ministry. There's work to be done on their side too, to win public acceptance. If any of you still don't trust us, or have other concerns, you're free to register for the potion through the Ministry."
He didn't sugarcoat it, nor did he hide the truth. "It's just… what happens there, and whatever consequences follow, will be out of our hands."
Marcus listened, rough fingers unconsciously rubbing the greasy edge of the bar, the sound a soft rasp in the silence.
At last, he spoke—his voice still hoarse, but the anger had faded.
"Holmes… The only reason I'm willing to believe this potion is real—even before you showed up—was because of him."
He looked up, meeting Lupin's eyes head-on.
"Even if it wasn't you, Remus Lupin, standing here today—if the message came in Holmes's name, I'd believe it, at least a little."
"Because he's Hufflepuff."
Marcus's voice was low but resolute, as if the name itself was a promise—a trust that needed no explanation.
Lupin was silent for a moment. So if he'd just led with Douglas's name, everything would've been easier? He couldn't help but give a wry smile. All these years working among the outcasts, and the trust between Houses still outweighed everything else.
He wondered, honestly, if he'd do the same—trust someone just because they were a Gryffindor.
Looking at Marcus, Lupin nodded solemnly.
"I trust him too. Mr. Holmes wants this handled by our own people—so that every companion who needs the potion can receive it safely, reliably, and without fear."
"Professor Holmes—and some like-minded friends—are forming a mutual aid group. Or, well… a company."
He hesitated over the word. "Mutual aid" sounded too much like charity.
"Company?" Marcus's thick brows knotted, the scars on his face twisting with suspicion.
That little spark of trust in his eyes flickered, nearly snuffed out by a fresh wave of doubt.
"What are you really planning? Some kind of werewolf circus?"
In the corner, Nightshade, Crescent, and Frostclaw all looked up, hands tightening around their mugs, eyes wary.
Lupin lowered his voice, but every word cut through the air, clear as a bell.
"To make sure every werewolf who needs help can get the new Wolfsbane Potion. And most importantly—not through the Ministry's bloody registration!"
Crescent, the young werewolf with fresh claw marks on his face, let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.
"You're joking, right? The Ministry's vultures are just going to let that happen?"
He eyed Lupin up and down, voice edged with scorn.
"Or is this some new trick? Round up all us filthy monsters, hand us over to the Minister, and earn yourself a pat on the back?"
Marcus barked, "Crescent!"
But Lupin held up a hand, stopping him.
He understood their fear. Years of Ministry oppression, discrimination, betrayal—no wonder they flinched at every promise, no matter how sweet it sounded.
He answered patiently.
"Mr. Holmes knows all too well—society's prejudice against us runs deep. It won't vanish overnight, not even with a new potion. There's no magic spell that can erase it all."
The bar fell silent. Even the three werewolves in the corner stopped fidgeting. Only the candles crackled and the sound of heavy breathing filled the air.
The answer was obvious. Even if the full moon's agony disappeared, they'd still be monsters in most eyes—still jobless, still driven out, still flayed alive by the contempt of "respectable" wizards.
Lupin's voice turned steely, leaving no room for doubt.
"That's why we need our own channel.
Bypass the Ministry. Join us.
Not only will you get a steady supply of potion—at prices far lower than what the Ministry charges—but you'll also receive real training."
"No Ministry. No St. Mungo's. We help ourselves. All you have to do is join Mr. Holmes's company."
Marcus arched an eyebrow. "A training company?"
Lupin shook his head.
"No. After you join, there's a three-month orientation. You'll be paid during that time, too."
He pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket—a document hammered out by Douglas, Sirius, and himself, drafted by Sirius and polished by Douglas: the Silvermane Academy Werewolf Training Program Curriculum Outline.
Lupin spread the parchment out on the bar.
He explained patiently.
"The company's work covers a lot: making magical items, distributing and selling potions, and more.
But let's be honest—everyone's skills are different. To help everyone fit in as full employees, and make the most of your talents…"
"We'll study magical theory, learn the nature of magical energy—so that one day, you might even create or improve magical objects yourselves."
"We'll learn to recognize magical materials—what helps us, what might be dangerous."
"Most importantly, we'll have courses in magical item crafting—from using and maintaining basic tools to creating simple magical objects."
"We'll even offer intensive training in the wizarding world's common tongue, so everyone can communicate and access information."
Lupin knew some werewolves, after years of isolation, had trouble speaking or even understanding others.
His voice trembled—just a little—with excitement and hope.
"After training, you're not required to work for the company.
With new skills, you can find decent jobs elsewhere.
No more hauling crates at Muggle docks, or scavenging for unwanted magical scraps in dangerous places.
We can't live in the shadows forever, surviving on other people's leftovers."
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