Wolfsbane Potion and a Deal

Inside Belby Manor stood a structure resembling the Colosseum.

A sturdy iron cage stood in its center, while moonlight slowly squeezed through the dark clouds.

It was a full moon, and the man inside the iron cage was in excruciating pain.

He curled up inside the cage, convulsing as hair rapidly sprouted all over his body.

"Look at this ugly thing. They're neither wolves nor humans."

Damocles Belby held an ornate cane, while an automatic dictation quill beside him recorded his every word and action.

"The entire transformation takes half a minute. You're about to witness a great moment worthy of going down in history."

A trace of excitement colored Damocles's voice. The development of the Wolfsbane Potion would bring about an enormous change.

He no longer pursued wealth. As a Potions Master, he had no shortage of money. What he sought now was prestige.

If the Wolfsbane Potion succeeded, he would receive at least a Second Class medal.

It was an honor for a wizard, and an aspiration for a scholar.

John was the first witness to this clinical trial, showing that Damocles already regarded him as an equal.

"Using highly poisonous wolfsbane as an ingredient-what a brilliant idea. Throughout history, every Potions Master who handled wolfsbane has shied away from its toxicity."

Nothing but praise spilled from his arrogant lips. It was a brilliant idea.

The key lay in the dosage.

After experiments that left two werewolves partially paralyzed and three in vegetative states, that delicate balance had proved as elusive as a Golden Snitch.

John had been the one to find that crucial balance for him. Otherwise, there would probably have been several werewolf corpses buried beneath the manor by now.

This had not been particularly difficult for John. He possessed a sensitivity like that of a dragon's tongue, coupled with a faint perception of magic, allowing him to determine a potion's toxic content through his fingers.

Half a minute passed as the two watched.

The man, who had been bitten by a werewolf a year ago, fully transformed into a werewolf walking on two legs, though he seemed somewhat confused immediately after the change.

Damocles tapped the iron cage with his cane and called out, "Shelby, can you understand me?"

At first, the werewolf still seemed confused, but after a few minutes, his eyes cleared, free of the murky savagery that usually accompanied the transformation.

He nodded, pointed at his mouth, and struggled to utter a single word. "Yes."

The Wolfsbane Potion had succeeded.

Damocles could not help cheering. John smiled too, but he needed further confirmation.

He approached the cage and said, "Mr. Damocles Belby, please open the cage."

"What?" Damocles thought he had misheard. He stared at John in disbelief.

"Are you joking? Even with the Wolfsbane Potion, we cannot fully trust these vile creatures."

His words dripped with undisguised contempt. This was the reality every werewolf faced.

The entire wizarding world discriminated against them, even though they had not chosen to become werewolves and most were victims.

"We can only call this a success once we've conclusively proved that werewolves can retain their sanity."

"Open the cage," John said firmly.

"If you hadn't solved the Wolfsbane Potion for me, I'd certainly think you were mad." Seeing how determined John was, Damocles could only curse under his breath and open the cage for him.

He tapped his cane against the ground, and the cage's iron door opened.

The werewolf pushed the door aside and walked out. Damocles drew his wand, on guard, and swore, "Get back in there, you bastard!"

Instead of retreating, John stepped forward without the slightest hesitation, his left hand ready to draw his wand at any moment.

He approached the werewolf. The transformation had also made the man taller and larger.

His hideous features looked ferocious in the night. John spread his arms and said softly, "Shelby, let me see that you're truly lucid."

Damocles burst out cursing. "This is madness! You're going to hug a werewolf?"

Shelby found it unbelievable too. He cautiously approached John and, under Damocles's horrified gaze, finally embraced him as carefully as though he were cradling a fragile work of art.

"I have to say, wolf fur is a little prickly."

John made the quip while inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

He was not willing to sacrifice everything for scientific research. He simply wanted to test whether a werewolf could truly remain rational.

Wizards refused to accept werewolves because of the destruction and slaughter they unleashed at the full moon, recognizing neither family nor friends.

If they could be controlled, they were essentially super Animagi stacked with armor and muscle.

If he could harness such power and assemble a team, it would be a devastating weapon.

He looked at Damocles, who was so astonished that he had dropped his cane, and chuckled. "Damocles, we'll go down in the history of magic. We've changed an entire race."

Glory!

This was what Damocles cared about most. At those words, his face blossomed into a smile.

John patted Shelby's arm. There was no doubt that those sharp claws could easily tear open a throat.

"Shelby, perhaps we can become friends. Thank you for putting yourself on the line for the Wolfsbane Potion."

"It's... my honor."

Ever since being bitten, Shelby had suffered relentless discrimination. Even his former colleagues had avoided him like the plague.

With nowhere else to turn, he had chosen to become a test subject. Though he had not fully recovered, retaining his sanity was already an excellent outcome.

He felt grateful to both men who had developed the potion, especially John.

In John's eyes, he saw none of Damocles's condescension or contempt, as though he were looking at a monster. Instead, he saw genuine concern for a patient and the equal treatment owed to another person.

Over the past year, he had endured countless cold stares. Sometimes, even the most ordinary greeting could make someone willing to die for you.

Especially when John had watched him turn into a werewolf and still dared to embrace him rather than point a wand at him.

The full moon continued, and the two kept observing Shelby.

Only when the moon vanished from the sky did Shelby begin to recover from his werewolf state, gradually returning to his original appearance.

"It worked."

Shelby had not displayed the slightest irrational behavior all night, confirming the Wolfsbane Potion's success.

John clenched his fists, while Damocles stripped off his clothes and ran naked around the manor in celebration.

After bringing Shelby a set of clothes, John offered him his hand and smiled. "Interested in finding yourself a job? One hundred Galleons a month."

John needed a reliable bodyguard for his shop in Knockturn Alley, and Shelby happened to be an excellent candidate.

His gray-blue eyes, deep eye sockets, and hollow cheeks gave him a wolfish air. Under his gaze, an oppressive sense of being scrutinized arose unbidden.

This had something to do with Shelby's former profession. He had been an Auror.

A werewolf had bitten him during a mission, costing him his job and leaving him adrift. The drastic change in his circumstances had left the former Auror haggard.

Shelby could hardly believe John's offer.

"I'd like to have that job."

Though the pay was lower than an Auror's, it was a high salary for a werewolf.

He became even more firmly committed to John as his "boss," without looking down on him because of his age.

John held out his hand and smiled. "John Wick. But I'd like you to call me Johnny Silverhand once you're at the shop. The fellow watching the place is a thief, so you can keep an eye on him while you're there."

Shelby shook his hand, a smile appearing on his gloomy face. "Tommy Shelby. I think that's something I'm good at."

Their partnership began on a pleasant note. Meanwhile, after Damocles returned from his naked run, he and John also reached a mutually agreeable arrangement.

Although he wanted all the credit for himself, John's contribution was simply too great.

John shook his head and declined, smiling as he said, "Damocles, developing it alone would make the struggle and the legend stand out all the more. Two people might receive two Second Class medals, but one person could receive a First Class medal."

Damocles was tempted. Who could turn down a First Class medal?

He stared at John, wanting to know his terms.

"I want exclusive rights to sell the Wolfsbane Potion. In return, I'm willing to give you a fifty-percent share."

In exchange for letting Damocles enjoy all the glory, John wanted to use the Wolfsbane Potion to grow and expand his shop.

Damocles declined. He had no desire for money; he already had more than he could spend in several lifetimes. "There's no need for a share. You know the Wolfsbane Potion's formula. You can have it all."

This delighted John even more. Potions Masters really were rich. Though the money would not amount to much in the short term, it would undoubtedly become substantial later on.

He had not expected Damocles to disregard even that. John was genuinely envious.

Ultimately, the two reached an agreement. John received exclusive rights to sell the Wolfsbane Potion, while Damocles received the glory of developing it.

With John's involvement, this Wolfsbane Potion was far more potent.

It could truly be called a blessing for werewolves.