Lupin's expression was gentle.
"Yes. In my sixth month of taking it, I dared to walk into a Hogwarts study room on the night of the full moon and watch the students practicing spells in the moonlight, instead of hiding in my office counting the cracks between the bricks."
Sirius rubbed his head. Douglas had thoroughly corrupted his old friend. Ever since he had started taking the New Wolfsbane Potion, what full moon had he not spent eating hot pot in Douglas's office? It had never been as miserable as he described.
In the distance, Dumbledore's long beard twitched. He had joined them for hot pot on more than one full moon. When had he ever made Lupin count cracks between bricks?
Lupin lightly tapped the crystal ball, and a line of text appeared beneath the five differently colored potion bottles hovering in midair.
"What struck me most, actually, was Douglas's philosophy of treatment: treatment should not be hatred of our 'wolf nature,' but an embrace of our 'humanity.'"
"Traditional Wolfsbane Potion made us feel we were 'mistakes that needed correcting,' whereas the new potion taught me that a werewolf's bloodline is not a curse, but a magical chessboard that needs patient, careful tending."
"When we nourish the liver with sour flavors and soothe the spleen with sweet ones, we are essentially declaring to our bodies: 'I accept every part of you. Whether it is a human's gentleness or a wolf's strength, I will care for it well.'"
"Please pass on what I am about to say to our fellow werewolves still struggling in pain throughout the wizarding world. When your liver begins to repair itself, when gloom no longer gathers in your lungs, when your heart can beat calmly beneath the moonlight, the gaze of others will no longer