The din at the Quidditch Pitch continued.
In Douglas's office, the air carried the dry scent of parchment mingled with old books.
Lupin ran his fingertips over a document. The paper felt rough and real.
"New Wolfsbane Potion Sales Plan."
Every word seemed like a carefully laid trap.
The midday sunlight slanted through the window, dividing the room into light and shadow.
The door opened, and Douglas returned from invigilating an exam.
Dobby promptly placed a steaming bowl of noodles with fried bean sauce on the desk. The rich aroma of sauce instantly diluted the bookish atmosphere.
Lupin looked up, his eyes filled with a strange emotion, as though he had seen something that overturned everything he knew.
"Douglas, do you think I know absolutely nothing about Muggle economics?"
Douglas's chopsticks were stirring up a storm in a sea of noodles. At those words, he paused and raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"You understood it?"
Lupin's lips curved into a mixture of disdain and self-mockery, like a silent roll of his eyes.
"A few years ago, a Muggle pyramid scheme took me in."
His voice was flat, as though recounting someone else's past.
"Unfortunately, I couldn't come up with the three thousand pounds they wanted, and I had no friends or relatives to recruit. The man handling me let me eat my fill for several meals, then dumped me."
"Cough... cough, cough!"
Douglas choked spectacularly on a mouthful of noodles, his cheeks flushing red.
He gulped down a large mouthful of water before recovering, tears of laughter even gathering at the corners of his eyes.
"So you've got that kind of experience too! Then this plan must be child's play for you."
Ignoring his teasing, Lupin jabbed a finger hard against one page of the plan, his knuckles whitening slightly.