"The moment I transformed into a wolf, this bracelet emitted a blinding light."
"I clearly remember the blue glow filling the entire room."
"Then, as soon as my transformation was complete, the blue light swirled into waves, encircling me."
"Every time I tried to reach out or move, a wave would wrap around my body."
"And with it came excruciating pain, as though my entire body was burning! A pain so intense that even a Werewolf's strong body couldn't endure it!"
Lupin's usually gentle face twisted in pain, as if he were reliving yesterday's terrible experience.
"After enduring it several times, my mind nearly faded, but I couldn't fall. I stood there all night, like a foolish student who'd made a mistake, suffering indescribable agony!"
He exhaled angrily, as if he might hurl the cup in his hand at Tver.
"Ahem."
Tver let out an awkward chuckle.
"Don't worry, that pain was intentional. I was concerned that Werewolves might have stronger magical resistance, so I used a different spell—one that makes the soul experience agony."
Seeing Lupin's eyes widen, Tver quickly reassured him, "Rest assured, it won't leave any physical scars or lingering soul effects. Once the pain subsides, you'll be perfectly fine."
"As for preventing you from moving, that's because your thoughts in wolf form differ slightly from a human's. The spell was meant to suppress any aggressive urges during that state."
"You know, a Werewolf who retains their sanity is often more terrifying. If they were to attack, their power would far surpass that of an ordinary Werewolf."
Lupin nodded in agreement.
Years of hardship had taught him that some wizards were more dangerous than Werewolves.
If the two traits were combined, the resulting destruction would far exceed what either could do alone.
"But the sensitivity settings should be more reasonable—you can't expect me not to sleep at all, right?"
"Don't worry, the new version will be ready by the next full moon. I'll be there to monitor it and remove any unsuitable spells in real time."
After all, this job was Burke's responsibility. Lupin just needed to act as the client and provide the requirements.
Whether Burke could actually manage it was entirely up to him.
Once Lupin confirmed he could maintain his sanity during his transformation, he didn't mind Tver observing the process.
Truth be told, his concern wasn't about Tver getting hurt.
Given Tver's power, what he feared more was that in his frenzied state, he might accidentally provoke Tver, only to wake up the next day buried under a pile of rubble...
"Alright, now for the last question," Tver dropped the pretense. "Can you use magic in wolf form?"
"No," Lupin replied bluntly.
"Aside from a few minor differences, when I'm in that state, I'm just like a real wolf. Forget casting spells—I can't even sense my magic."
Tver nodded in understanding.
This was the result of a complete physical transformation. Like an Animagus, he had become an ordinary animal, which meant no magic.
"Thank you very much for your cooperation, Mr. Lupin." Tver stood up and drained his pumpkin juice in one gulp.
"I'm guessing you were hoping to rush to the Quidditch pitch to catch the end of the match..."
He glanced out the window behind Lupin, where a small figure was plummeting through the sky.
"Looks like the game's over. You're better off staying here and getting some sleep."
He pulled out a small vial containing a black potion and handed it to Lupin, along with the pumpkin juice.
"This is the Draught of the Living Dead," Tver shook the vial. "Add one drop if you want to feel drowsy again. Add two drops if you want a more restful sleep."
"But be careful—don't exceed three drops. You have class the day after tomorrow, and the students are already sick of Snape's endless lectures about Werewolves."
"Thanks," Lupin accepted it with a smile.
Truth be told, he was worried about being sleep-deprived from his excitement. The feeling of wanting to sleep but being unable was even worse than the aftereffects of a Werewolf transformation.
"I won't disturb your rest any longer."
After bidding Lupin farewell, Tver left the office.
As he stepped into the corridor, he noticed the dark clouds in the distance had thinned significantly.
And fewer still were the Dementors within them.
It seemed Dumbledore might actually be considering dismantling the Ministry of Magic.
Tver chuckled softly.
Downstairs, a cacophony of voices shouting "Harry!" and "Broomstick!" reached his ears.
It seemed Harry had been rescued and taken to the Hospital Wing.
Curiosity piqued, he followed the muddy footprints on the floor to the Hospital Wing.
"Professor Fawley?"
Hermione stood outside the circle of Quidditch players and immediately noticed Tver slipping in.
"I heard Harry got hurt. What happened?"
The players quickly parted to let Tver reach Harry's side.
Tver pretended to be a novice, examining Harry while listening to everyone chatter about the events on the pitch.
In short, during the intense moments of the match, Harry had encountered a Dementor in mid-air and fallen off his broomstick.
Luckily, Dumbledore had slowed his descent at the crucial moment, and the landing spot was soft earth, allowing them to bring Harry back safely.
Whether it was the noise of their conversation or something else, Harry began to stir awake before Madam Pomfrey had arrived.
"Are you feeling any discomfort?"
Harry's face was still dazed, but he shot upright immediately, nearly bumping into Tver.
"Sorry, Professor, but what happened in the match?" he asked urgently, glancing at his teammates.
"Harry, it's not your fault."
"Cedric caught the Golden Snitch just as you passed out."
"He's demanding a rematch."
"But Wood thinks they won fair and square. We really did lose."
The twins alternated recounting the match's outcome, but Harry's mood only seemed to get worse.
"I—"
"It's okay. We've lost before."
"Dementors are just as awful as Snape!"
"I mean, did any of you see my Nimbus 2000?" Harry shouted.
Hermione exchanged a nervous glance with Ron.
"Well… your broom got out of control and flew straight for the Whomping Willow," Ron said, swallowing hard.
"You know, it has a bit of a temper…"
Hermione bent down and picked up a small bag from the floor. "Professor Flitwick helped retrieve your broom, but…"
With Harry's growing dread, she turned the bag upside down. A dozen splinters and twigs fell onto the bed.
These were the remains of his beloved broomstick.