"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 370: Lupin the Recruiter
Lupin let his gaze sweep across Marcus, Nightshade, Crescent, and Frostclaw.
Shock and disbelief were etched on every face.
He drew a deep breath.
"I know you're all full of doubts and worries right now.
But this isn't a trap, nor is it some empty, pie-in-the-sky fantasy.
I, Remus Lupin, give you my word—on my character and my reputation.
Everything we're working for is real. It's about giving our cursed kind a chance to reclaim dignity and hope."
He paused, voice softening, almost pleading.
"And your joining us isn't just about yourselves. It's about helping countless others like us."
At that moment, Lupin became a practiced orator, his voice filling the shabby inn.
"There are so many more of our kind out there—hiding who they are, suffering through the agony of every full moon alone. Most of them don't even know a new potion exists, that a chance to change their fate is right within reach."
"You could be the ones to bring them the news. You could lead them here, show them they're not fighting this battle alone."
He hesitated, a little awkward, before pulling himself together to sound serious and professional.
"For every new person you successfully refer—someone who joins and stays in the training program for at least three months—you'll earn contribution points.
These points can be exchanged for potion, or other necessities, or even Galleons. Fresh steak, a warmer blanket—whatever you need. Trust me, inside the company, these points are worth more than Galleons out there."
"Of course, we're not saying you have to join the company or attend the training just to get the potion."
"What I mentioned before is for internal staff. We also have an external sales team."
"We'll offer the potion to agents at a very low price. You can use it yourself, or sell it to other werewolves in need.
Each time you sell a potion, you'll earn a commission—and gain a downline.
When your downlines sell potion, you'll get a share as well.
And when they recruit their own downlines, you'll keep earning. It's… well, a growing circle of werewolf mutual aid."
"Sounds like a pyramid scheme," Crescent sneered, the corner of his mouth quirking. But behind the sarcasm, there was a flicker of something new—interest, perhaps, instead of outright hostility.
Lupin nodded honestly, not shying away from the word.
"You could call it that, but our goal isn't to squeeze Galleons out of our own.
It's to help more people escape the endless torment of lycanthropy. It's about giving our outcast community a way to live with dignity."
Marcus's deep-set eyes never left Lupin. This was the man who had once howled beside him on cold, hopeless full-moon nights—and now, he was bringing hope that could change the fate of every werewolf.
His rough fingers scratched his stubbled chin, the soft rasp a sign of deep thought.
When Douglas found Lupin, he was staring blankly into a glass of cold beer.
Douglas clapped him on the shoulder, teasing, "Thinking about the meaning of wolf life, or just wondering if they watered down your beer?"
Lupin sighed and rubbed his temples.
Douglas grinned. "Don't overthink it. You made your choice—so trust them, the way they trust you. Besides, the next full moon's still a ways off.
So cheer up. Grab your least shabby robes—we're off to Italy for some sunshine."
London Heathrow Airport.
Lupin was visibly uncomfortable.
He'd never been in a place so crowded.
Lowering his voice, he muttered to Douglas, "Douglas, I have to ask again—why aren't we using Floo Powder or a Portkey? This Muggle… airplane sounds like a giant metal bird, and it flies for hours!"
Douglas glanced around and shrugged. "For people who don't have Apparition or Portkeys, this is as efficient as it gets."
He strode over to the self-service check-in kiosk and tapped away expertly.
"Relax, Remus. Try to enjoy the experience. Besides, the Ministry wants us to enter Italy quietly—no need to attract attention."
Lupin shot him a bewildered look. "Quietly? Then why'd you have the Ministry spread the word about my trip to Italy?
And how do you know how to use this thing? Most Muggles seem lost."
Douglas pressed a few more buttons; two boarding passes spat out below.
"Maybe I'm just clever. The machine won't bite your fingers—unless you enter the wrong password three times, then it might swallow your passport and play your embarrassing moments over the airport PA.
Oh, and I told the Ministry to publicize you, not me. I'm the low-profile one…"
Lupin took the boarding pass, rolling his eyes.
"Let's hope this metal bird serves decent tea."
At security, the atmosphere tensed.
When Lupin's turn came, the metal detector beeped at his waist.
The security officer eyed him. "Sir, what's in your jacket?"
Lupin froze. He couldn't exactly say, "That's my wand—it can make you forget who you are."
Douglas stepped up, flashing a dazzling smile.
"Oh, that? It's a special massage stick for his Italian grandmother—handmade, ergonomic, perfect for back pain. She's old-fashioned, loves vintage things."
As he spoke, he fished out Lupin's wand.
Since Lupin's recovery, his wolf-free bloodline had given him unusual strength. To keep him from accidentally snapping his wand, Sirius had wrapped it in a layer of magical metal.
The security officer shot them a suspicious look, glanced at the "massage stick," then waved them through.
"Go ahead. Next!"
Lupin exhaled in relief, trailing after Douglas and muttering, "When did I get an Italian grandmother? I thought you'd use a Confundus Charm."
Douglas grinned. "When in Rome, Remus—when in Rome. If you're living among Muggles, learn to get by without a wand.
Besides, what if we really run into a granny who needs a massage stick?"
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