Just as he had suspected earlier, the werewolf curse acted solely upon the life-force layer of the human body, barely touching the realm of mental power at all—at most, it caused the afflicted to lose their rationality for a short time under specific conditions and states.
But that brief loss of reason, combined with a werewolf's terrifying destructive power during transformation and the curse's nauseating infectious nature, was what had given "werewolves" their infamous reputation. No wonder that in the original story, once Lupin's condition was exposed, so many parents objected to him continuing to teach.
And honestly, you couldn't really blame those parents.
Even in Muggle society, hardly anyone would want a person with intermittent psychotic episodes and AIDS-like infectious risks spending every day with their children—no matter how prestigious the headmaster was, or how gentle, disciplined, and self-controlled that teacher might be. Potential danger didn't simply vanish because of those things.
"By the way… what exactly is the principle behind Voldemort's curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position? Why haven't I noticed it until now? And why did it dissipate automatically after Voldemort's death? Logically speaking, once a spell is formed, unless it's bound directly to the caster's life, it shouldn't just disappear like that…"
"Ugh. I'm getting off track."
He shook his head, casually found an empty compartment, sat down, and continued reviewing Lupin's soul state as he'd just observed it.
The soul's core showed no abnormalities—of that there was no doubt.
The mental layer, Avada's strongest field, had been indirectly affected due to its natural linkage with life-force. That was likely the reason werewolves lost their sanity during transformation. Other than that, the rest of the mental structure was completely intact.
Which meant that, as a bona fide expert in mental power research, Avada already had a way—after only a brief observation—to temporarily sever part of the link between life-force and mental power, allowing a werewolf to retain their sanity during a full moon.
Yes.That was one of the core principles behind Wolfsbane Potion.
As for how that potion further caused the afflicted to transform into an ordinary wolf instead of a violent monster, that required deeper study—either of Lupin's life-force itself or of a finished sample of Wolfsbane Potion.
Then there was the life-force layer, where the real problem lay.
From the perspective of his magical perception, Lupin's life-force bore something resembling a magical contract brand—yet its structure was formed from magic capable of perfectly integrating into the human life-force. Under normal circumstances it lay dormant, but once triggered by a certain external condition, it erupted instantly, damaging and distorting the entire life-force structure.
That magic was, without question, the werewolf curse.
Put simply, the werewolf curse was like a magical contract imposed upon the life-force itself. The "violation condition" that triggered the punishment wasn't controlled by the victim at all—it was determined by an external factor.
The full moon.
As for why those bitten by a werewolf were implanted with the exact same curse, Avada couldn't yet determine the reason. To study that properly, he'd need a ready-made, fully transformed werewolf at hand.
Still, that didn't change one thing:
To him, removing a contract imprint was not particularly difficult.
Although his research since entering the magical world had focused primarily on mental power, the connection between life-force and mental power was so profound under many circumstances that he had naturally studied life-force as well. He might not be as deep in that field as he was in mental power, but he was still a genuine expert—no exaggeration.
So, given that he had several hours each week to observe Lupin's life-force, plus the possibility of obtaining Wolfsbane Potion from Snape, Avada was fairly confident he could devise a complete solution to overcome the werewolf curse.
This was worth serious effort.
Not just for Lupin alone—if the werewolf problem could truly be resolved, it would be an enormous boon to the entire magical society, and an equally powerful asset to Avada's broader plans.
And let's not forget his ultimate trump card: magical perception. With it, he could use his mental power to directly, brutally dismantle any magical structure. Even if he failed to develop a scalable, cost-effective treatment, he could still grind the curse away with sheer talent—wasn't that exactly how the curse on the Resurrection Stone was being eroded?
Though that curse really was absurdly strong. He'd been grinding at it for an entire year now without fully breaking it…
Suddenly, he found himself almost hoping to encounter a Dementor—their level of mental power would absolutely be enough to trigger that curse.
Alright. Another new task added.
He rubbed his head, tallying up just how much he had to do during this supposedly "peaceful" school year—contact Black, obtain the locket, maneuver Peter Pettigrew, explore the magical world to test the feasibility of his idea, and if time allowed, research werewolves as well…
How is this even busier than last year??
Well, at least it's safe this time. Not like the past two years where my life was constantly on the line…
Merlin above—when exactly will the carefree days of living off the Ministry's twenty Galleons finally arrive…
"Hey, Ken?"
The compartment door was suddenly pulled open, startling him. "Cho? Long time no see."
"Long time no see."
Cho Chang greeted him with a bright smile, then asked, "Isn't Cedric sitting with you?"
"He was with a group of prefects earlier—probably on patrol now. He was just appointed prefect this year."
"Really? That's wonderful. And he didn't even write to tell me during the holidays… See you at school, Ken!"
"Yeah, see you."
Avada nodded. After watching Cho hurry off, he casually picked up a copy of Transfiguration Today and began reading, waiting for the next interruption.
"Ken."
"Oh—Baron? You bought this issue of Transfiguration Today too?"
"You did as well? Perfect—did you see Professor McGonagall's article?"
"I did. The one about transfiguration experiments under extreme petrification conditions created by Basilisk eyes?"
"Yes, that's the one."
Baron sighed. "I don't know what got into my father. After reading that article, he suddenly became interested in Basilisks—said he was thinking about investing in a Basilisk breeding facility. He even contacted Professor Kettleburn about it."
"What? Breeding Basilisks?!"
Avada was startled. "I thought Professor Kettleburn was joking! Those things can actually be raised?"
"According to my father, yes. After all, ancient figures like Herpo the Foul and Salazar Slytherin managed to breed Basilisks successfully. There's no reason modern wizards couldn't."
"But didn't they rely on Parseltongue to control them?"
Avada looked utterly baffled. "If you're just hiring Parselmouths instead of developing a method that can be widely replicated, how can that ever become systematic breeding? Let alone an entire breeding facility?"
"Who knows? My dad's been acting mysterious lately…"
Baron sighed, and the two of them casually chatted along the Basilisk topic. For once, nobody on the train was talking to Avada about Quidditch.
(End of Chapter)