Yes—Lupin had also come to regard Arthur as some sort of mysterious existence from the East.
After Arthur revealed that colossal Patronus on the Quidditch pitch, the professors began asking Snape about him one after another. They were all curious how Snape had taught such an outstanding student—and whether that experience could be shared.
Snape, exhausted by the questions, simply reused Arthur's carefully fabricated background story and firmly stated that this was all Arthur's own talent and had very little to do with his teaching.
And so, the entire Hogwarts faculty came to know Arthur's "official" origin story.
It didn't stop there.
Thanks to a certain big-mouthed professor, the matter even reached the Board of Governors—because one of the governors had been watching the Quidditch match that day and had witnessed Arthur's Patronus with their own eyes.
Curiosity led to inquiries, inquiries led to gossip, and just like that, the story spread.
As for who that big-mouthed professor was…
Naturally, it was Hagrid, Professor of Care of Magical Creatures.
Of course, Arthur knew none of this yet.
At the moment, he was focused on Harry's broken broomstick, examining it with care.
First, Arthur carefully inspected the damaged sections. He even used his mental perception to do so.
Strictly speaking, broomsticks were also alchemical products. Special flight-related runes were carved into them to allow flight.
Arthur's mental power was probing the internal rune structure. He planned to repair it using the most direct—and brutal—method possible.
After finishing his inspection, Harry and the others saw Arthur take out his wand, his expression unusually serious as he stared at the broom.
Just as they were bracing themselves for some earth-shattering magic, Arthur calmly spoke a spell.
"Reparo."
Yes.
That was it.
Under normal circumstances, Reparo couldn't fully fix a broomstick.
The magical runes embedded within interfered with the spell. Even if the broom was restored on the surface, the internal runes would remain broken.
At best, you'd end up with a broom that looked fine but couldn't fly properly.
Arthur's Reparo, however, was different.
His vast mental power allowed him to operate on a microscopic level. Even the rune pathways inside the broomstick could be precisely restored.
As his voice faded, the broken sections of the broom rejoined on their own. Cracks vanished, wood knitting together as if it had never been damaged.
Arthur glanced at the broom in his hand, idly wondering if this counted as saving Sirius Black a considerable amount of money.
After all, in the original timeline, once Sirius learned Harry's broom was destroyed, he bought him a brand-new Firebolt—five thousand Galleons.
Arthur had always been curious where an escaped fugitive had gotten that kind of money.
"All right. Try it," Arthur said, tossing the broom to Harry.
"Uh… Arthur, are you sure?" Harry asked nervously.
"I know what you're thinking," Arthur replied. "Normally Reparo doesn't work on magical items. But that depends on who casts it. Go on—try it."
Harry nodded and chose to trust him.
He mounted the broom, kicked off—
—and shot into the air.
That familiar feeling rushed back, just like the first time he'd ever flown on it.
As Harry soared, Lupin turned to Arthur and asked quietly, "How did you manage that?"
"It's simple," Arthur said casually. "I repaired the runes as well."
His tone was as relaxed as if he were talking about what he'd had for dinner.
But Lupin knew how absurd that sounded.
First, you'd need intimate knowledge of the rune layout.
Second, you'd normally need specialized tools.
The wizarding world didn't have industrial production—every broomstick was handcrafted by experts. One tiny mistake meant starting over from scratch.
That was why broomsticks sold for thousands of Galleons.
Harry soon flew back down, eyes shining as he looked at Arthur.
"Thank you, Arthur!"
He truly meant it.
Not just for fixing the broom—but for saving his life during the Quidditch match.
Arthur waved it off. "It's nothing. But you should really consider playing less Quidditch."
"First year, your broom was cursed. Second year, the Bludger was cursed. Third year, nothing was cursed—and you ran into Dementors instead. At this rate, I'm afraid you'll die on the Quidditch pitch someday."
Lupin hadn't realized just how many accidents Harry had had during matches. It was almost like he'd inherited James Potter's uncanny talent for attracting trouble.
"Thanks for worrying about me," Harry said seriously, "but I'm not quitting. At least not while I'm at school. This was where my father played."
Arthur shrugged. He hadn't intended to argue—just making conversation.
"Oh, speaking of your father… there's something that should be returned to its rightful owner."
Arthur took out a piece of parchment and handed it to Harry.
Harry examined the blank parchment, confused. "What is this?"
"That," Arthur said, glancing at Lupin, "is a question better answered by our dear Mr. Moony."
At that nickname, memories surged through Lupin's mind. He recognized the parchment immediately.
The Marauder's Map.
Arthur had possessed it for quite some time now. He'd already fully understood the magic behind it—if he wanted, he could recreate it at any time.
This particular copy, however, belonged to James and the others.
"Professor, you know what this is?" Harry asked.
Lupin took the parchment gently and tapped it with his wand.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Ink bloomed across the parchment, revealing a detailed map of Hogwarts. Names and footprints moved constantly across it.
"The Marauder's Map," Lupin said softly. "A magical artifact created by your father, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew… and myself. It records the entire castle, including secret passages."
Then he looked at Arthur. "I didn't expect you to know about this."
Arthur spread his hands. "Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail, Prongs. The clues were fairly obvious."
Harry blinked. "What do those nicknames mean?"
"Sirius never told you?" Arthur asked. "They're based on their traits. Prongs was your father—his Animagus form was a stag. Wormtail refers to Peter's rat tail. Padfoot was Sirius. As for why Professor Lupin was called Moony…"
Arthur paused, then smiled.
"Ever wondered why Snape started his substitute lessons by explaining werewolves?"
Harry's eyes widened.
He finally understood why Lupin took sick leave every month—and why the Boggart had turned into a full moon.
"Professor… you're a werewolf?"
Lupin gave a wry smile and nodded, briefly recounting his past.
He didn't linger on it, instead shifting the topic to how the four of them had learned Animagus transformation.
Harry listened, utterly enthralled.
"I want to learn that too!" he blurted out.
Before, McGonagall's Animagus form had just seemed impressive. Now, knowing his father had been one—and having seen Hermione transform with his own eyes—Harry was filled with longing.
"Hermione, could you teach me Animagus magic?" he asked eagerly.
Hermione shook her head helplessly. "I completed mine with Arthur's help. If you really want to learn, you should ask him."
Harry turned to Arthur—
—and Arthur cruelly shook his head.
"Forget it. Animagus magic requires a high level of Transfiguration. You don't meet the standard. Besides, you haven't even fully mastered your Patronus yet."
Harry's talent in Transfiguration was, at best, average. He was still far from the level required for Animagus transformation.
Just as Harry's shoulders slumped, Arthur added, "That said—if you really want to try, you can ask Professor McGonagall. She's the expert. She knows how to help students reach the necessary standard more quickly."
Whether McGonagall would actually help, however, was beyond Arthur's concern.
He was Harry's friend—not his babysitter.
Harry nodded firmly.
He'd ask Professor McGonagall.
Even if the requirements scared him off… at least he'd tried.
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