The Werewolf is Too Ugly

Regulus walked over to Dumbledore and waved his hand in front of him.

Under the moonlight, a line of faint silver-white numbers appeared: 1:17 AM.

He withdrew his hand and looked at Dumbledore: "Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."

Dumbledore watched the fading numbers, his mustache twitching slightly. "Good evening, Regulus."

He blinked behind his glasses. "It really is nighttime this time."

Regulus's lips curled into a slight smile.

Last time at the Astronomy Tower, also in the early morning, he said good evening, Dumbledore took out his Pocket Watch, looked at it, and said, strictly speaking, good morning.

Now he reveals the time first, Dumbledore is able to pick up on it; the old man has a good memory.

They both looked at the Whomping Willow up.

James has already rushed in, Sirius has rushed in too; now they're both inside getting beaten up.

The sound of the branches snapping down was loud enough to be heard even from this far away.

James screamed the loudest, a loud howl, it was hard to tell whether it was from pain or from finding it exciting.

Sirius groaned a few times and cursed a few times, but the sound of the branches drowned out his words.

Peter remained huddled behind the bushes, trembling, showing no intention of approaching.

Regulus watched for a while.

"Professor," he said directly, without beating around the bush, "Do you come here every day?"

Dumbledore to look at him. "Do you know what's inside?"

Regulus nodded. "I know, Werewolf, Lupin."

Dumbledore simply nodded, without asking how he knew.

While Werewolf are indeed not easily distinguishable by their appearance, Werewolf Magic Power qualities are too conspicuous for a skilled wizard.

That bloodthirsty, inhuman feeling that was suppressed, that restless Magic Fluctuation that began before the full moon—it couldn't be hidden.

Given Regulus's level of expertise, it's perfectly normal for him to discover this.

"On this day every month, yes," Dumbledore said. "Remus is a good boy, and he shouldn't be hurt because he's different."

He glanced at James, who was still struggling in the distance. "But what he needs more is not to be misunderstood."

Regulus listened quietly.

"The three of them," Dumbledore continued, "Will understand something tonight. They may be afraid, they may back down, or they may make different choices."

Regulus knew what he was talking about; it was simply Sirius ' choice after discovering that Lupin was indeed Werewolf.

Fear, withdrawal, or acceptance.

Regulus knew what they would choose.

They would accept it and then try to help, training Animagus to become an animal and spend the full moon night with Lupin.

He'd do anything for his friends.

Regulus thought to himself, but didn't say it aloud, then he suddenly thought of something else.

Dumbledore seemed to particularly enjoy letting young wizards experience this kind of thing.

Set up a scenario where they are confronted with a certain truth, and then see what choices they make.

Is it fear or courage? Is it retreating or stepping forward? Is it abandoning or Protection?

Then he would watch from the sidelines, occasionally offering guidance, and if he saw a satisfactory result, he would even say a few words of praise.

This is probably a habit of older educators.

I enjoy watching people grow, watching them make choices at crucial moments, and seeing where those choices ultimately lead them.

Which will they choose, James or Sirius?

They would rush up and protect Lupin, no matter what he became.

I'll try to help him, even if the method is incredibly stupid, and I'll pretend nothing happened the next day and continue being friends.

Dumbledore will see it.

We see the preciousness of friendship, the value of courage, and the foolish courage of three young wizards who were willing to risk everything for a friend.

Regulus could actually understand that feeling.

He understood the feeling of charging forward without regard for anything else for friendship, the passion, the impulsiveness, the adventure, and the belief that friendship was everything.

But he was too rational.

He always has a habit of weighing the pros and cons before doing anything, thinking things through clearly before deciding whether to do it or not.

This makes it difficult for him to experience that kind of pure, reckless impulse.

He thought about the people he knew; how many could he truly consider friends?

Lily is one of them. They've met quite a few times, and every chat is quite pleasant. She understands what he's saying, and he understands what she means.

Freya is one of them. Although we've only known each other for less than a month, the tacit understanding we have, the feeling of knowing each other without saying much, is very rare.

Narcissa is a relative, not a friend.

As for Avery, Alex, Hermes, there is an element of friendship, but it is not significant.

Their relationship was more like that of a follower and a leader.

They followed him, obeyed his commands, stayed by his side, and he protected them, taught them things, and led them forward.

But they weren't exactly friends, at least not the kind of friends you could do silly things, act impulsively, or disregard the consequences with.

Regulus snapped out of his thoughts.

Dumbledore remained silent, simply standing there quietly.

He noticed the changes in Regulus's expression, those occasional glimpses of something that didn't seem like something someone his age should have.

It was as if he was recalling something, or perhaps pondering something.

Dumbledore didn't disturb him; he knew Regulus was different.

Although he is so young, and in every sense just a child, this child already has a complete set of his own.

My views on the world, my understanding of Magic, and my self-awareness are all established and cannot be easily shaken.

Dumbledore didn't know what he was thinking at that moment, but he was willing to wait.

After a while, Regulus suddenly spoke.

"Friendship," he said with a touch of old-fashioned wistfulness, "Is sometimes quite rare."

Dumbledore moment.

It sounded rather odd coming from Regulus.

A twelve-year-old child, reflecting on the rarity of friendship?

Dumbledore looked at him, his beard twitched, and then he laughed. It wasn't a loud laugh, but you could tell he genuinely found it amusing.

Regulus saw him laugh and smiled back.

A cheer came from the direction of the Whomping Willow" in the distance.

James and Sirius finally broke through the attack range and slipped into the small entrance beneath the willow tree. (Latest plot update: Click to follow.)

Peter remained standing there, bewildered.

He stared at the dark cave entrance, wanting to follow but too afraid. He took two steps forward, only to be pulled back by a willow branch.

He huddled behind the bushes, trembling, and didn't move.

Regulus saw Dumbledore raise his hand, and his fingers twitched slightly.

The branches of the Whomping Willow slowed down, no longer so violent, but just swayed lazily.

Peter froze for a few seconds, then realized what was happening and scrambled over to crawl into the hole.

Regulus looked away; Dumbledore certainly knew how to make arrangements.

Regulus looked up at the moon; it was large and round, hanging in the center of the sky.

We probably can't go to the Forbidden Forest today, but that's okay, there will be plenty of other opportunities.

"Professor," he said.

Dumbledore looked at him.

"Shall we go in and take a look?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Let's go."

Regulus drew his wand and cast an Disillusionment Charm on himself, a modified version that shielded him from light, heat, sound, and Magic Fluctuation, making him stand there like air.

Dumbledore watched his movements and remarked, "A very good Disillusionment Charm."

Then he blinked, and suddenly he vanished.

There was no gradual fading or distortion caused by light; it simply disappeared, like a person being suddenly cut out of a photograph, leaving only the background.

Regulus paused for a moment.

His Magic Perception were constantly active, but he couldn't sense anything. Dumbledore was standing right next to him, but he couldn't sense him.

He glanced in that direction, but there was nothing there.

A twitch appeared at the corner of his mouth. Was this old man showing off to him?

Shrieking Shack

The room was dilapidated, with furniture overturned, peeling paint, and scraps of wood and rags scattered on the floor.

There was an iron chain against the wall, firmly fixed to the wall and the ground, and the other end of the chain was locked to a person, Lupin.

He knelt on the ground, his hands and feet chained tightly.

His body was trembling, something was moving under his skin, sweat was pouring from his forehead, and his face was deathly pale.

James and his men hid behind a broken bed in the corner.

James poked his head out halfway, staring wide-eyed, his fists clenched as if he were about to pounce.

Sirius held onto his shoulder, his other hand gripping the seam of his pants tightly. He wanted to rush forward, but he was controlling himself.

Peter huddled at the very back, only his eyes showing, which darted around as if he were lost in thought.

Lupin's transformation has begun.

Regulus's Magic Perception spread out instantly; he wanted to see how this process—human, Werewolf, Magic Power —was transformed.

Lupin's Magic Power was the first to change; beneath the wizard's Magic Power, something stirred, like a wild beast locked in a cage, desperately trying to break free.

Then comes the body; the bones are cracking, growing, and Transfiguration; the fingers are bending, and the nails are growing longer and turning black.

The spine arched, the clothes were torn, the face was elongated, the mouth protruded, and the teeth became sharp.

By this time, his Magic Power had completely changed.

The wizard's Magic Power was suppressed, and another kind of Magic Power surged up, inhuman, primal, carrying the chill of blood and moonlight.

That kind of Magic Power has no reason, only instinct: tearing, killing, and destruction.

Regulus watched, and he could sense that the process was painful.

He could sense Lupin's struggle from the Magic Fluctuation; his human consciousness was still there, still resisting, but it was being devoured little by little.

It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground beneath your feet crumbling, your body falling with it, but you couldn't grab onto anything.

Transformation complete, now Lupin the Werewolf.

It was very tall, with both feet on the ground, its body leaning forward as if it were about to pounce.

Its fur was grayish-brown, its face was covered in long hair, its mouth was open, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth, and its eyes were yellow. There was no reason there, only...

It struggled forward, the chains rattling as they pulled it back.

It lunged, was pulled back, and then the cycle repeated itself.

The chains were strong and tightly locked; it couldn't break free and could only spin in place, emitting a mournful and eerie roar.

James and Sirius hid behind the bed, holding their breath.

Regulus looked at the Werewolf, his Magic Perception continuing to spread.

The Werewolf's Magic Power is pure, so pure that it consists only of instinct and needs: when hungry, it wants to eat; when imprisoned, it wants to escape; when it sees someone, it wants to bite.

Magic Power has indeed become stronger, and so has the body, but at this moment, the person named Remus Lupin does not exist.

He sensed the Werewolf's Magic Power, and the faint traces of humanity remaining within it.

The mark was faint, like a flame about to go out, but as long as the flame remained, it could turn back.

It's cruel.

Don't let him completely turn into a beast, but only let him become a beast during each full moon, so that he knows he is a beast, yet also remembers that he was once human.

As time passed, the Werewolf's howls gradually subsided.

Until the moon sets, no longer so round, no longer so big.

Then Regulus sensed that the bloodthirsty, inhuman Magic Power was beginning to fade.

The Werewolf's body was shrinking, its fur was falling off, and its fangs were retracting.

Lupin turned back into a human.

He collapsed to the ground, covered in sweat, his clothes tattered, with several fresh wounds on his skin. He was still chained, but he no longer had the strength to move.

James was the first to rush out.

He ran to Lupin's side, squatted down, reached out his hand, then pulled it back, unsure where to touch.

Sirius ran over and stood beside him, panting.

Peter was the last to come out, standing behind the two of them, craning his neck to look.

Dumbledore patted Regulus on the shoulder, turned and walked out. Regulus followed, and the two left the Shrieking Shack and returned to the moonlight.

The air was much fresher. Regulus took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Dumbledore stood beside him, gazing at the Forbidden Forest in the distance.

"Regulus," he asked calmly, as if casually, "What do you think of Werewolf?"

Regulus thought for a moment, then said, "Too ugly."

Dumbledore turned to look at him, his expression a little stiff, his beard twitching, but he didn't say a word.