Lupin looked at the children, his heart filled with mixed feelings.
He was genuinely happy that they had the chance to learn magic and take control of their own destinies.
But whenever he recalled Douglas's ruthless methods and those thirteen casually buried bodies, he felt a sense of unreality.
He felt that he still knew far too little about Douglas.
If Sirius knew what Lupin was thinking, he would certainly put an arm around his good friend's shoulders.
He would tell him how he had met Douglas.
To find him, Douglas had rounded up all the stray dogs in the area.
Even though Douglas knew full well that he had been framed and was also Harry's godfather, Douglas had always treated him very roughly.
Gentle and refined?
That was merely his disguise at Hogwarts.
At the other end of the cavern, however, an entirely different scene unfolded.
Valerius, the former Vampire Clan noble and faction leader of the Red Moon Brotherhood, was now kneeling on the ground like the most devout apprentice.
A piece of fine velvet lay spread on the ground before him.
In the center of the cloth, that exquisitely crafted, palm-sized model of an Eastern coffin had been solemnly placed.
His entire attention was immersed in this little work of art.
He extended his pale fingers, their nails meticulously trimmed, and gently traced the hair-thin silver inlay on the coffin with his fingertips, with the reverent care of a pilgrim.
Scattered beside him were more than a dozen scraps of fine oak.
Each bore traces of his attempts at imitation. Some cuts were too deep, ruining the grain of the wood; some lines were crooked, losing that flowing grace.
"No... that's not right..."
He muttered to himself, his dark red eyes filled with an artist's obsessive fervor.