Hogwarts: I graduated before the system came

The werewolf's claws left deep scars on his face, and its fangs carved indelible marks on his arms.

He once huddled in the dark corners of society, enduring discriminatory gazes and scornful whispers, his nails digging deep into his palms, and tasting the bitterness of being abandoned by the world.

However, Hufflepuff's tenacity and kindness have not been diminished.

When he came into contact with werewolves with similar fates as him, and witnessed them wandering the streets and struggling in despair, a soft corner of his heart was deeply touched.

“Why?” He once growled hoarsely at the cold wall, “We just…we’re just unlucky.”

Thus, the inn named "Howl of the Moon" quietly opened in the filth of Knockturn Alley.

The air was filled with the aroma of cheap stew, occasionally mixed with the smell of herbs - that was his attempt to use the most primitive method to treat the wounds of his injured companions.

The wooden floor of the hotel creaked under footsteps, and the walls were covered with crooked job advertisements. Most of them were manual labor with meager pay, but they were the only source of livelihood for these werewolves who were excluded from mainstream society.

The night was dark.

The air in Knockturn Alley was filled with all sorts of strange smells.

Lupin was wrapped in a half-worn cloak with the hood pulled down low, covering most of his face.

He turned into an even narrower alley as if he knew the way.

At the end of the alley was a small door with a faded image of a wolf's head on it.

This is an underground hotel known only to werewolves, the Howling Moon Inn.

Standing at the door, he rhythmically knocked on the words "Marcus Belby" towards the eyes of the wolf head.

The creaking wooden door opened automatically, and a hot wind mixed with the smell of cheap beer, sweat and a faint smell of blood blew in my face.

The light in the store was dim, with a few flickering candles barely providing a ray of light.

Two or three figures were huddled on worn chairs, drinking cheap ale.

Hearing the door open, he looked up vigilantly.

Lupin took off his hood.

A hoarse voice from the shadows of the bar asked:

"Remus?"

Lupin glanced at the people present, most of whom were familiar faces, and then said towards the bar:

"It's me, Marcus."

Several people in the shadows were a little excited, but at the same time looked behind Lupin with some fear.

Marcus also looked carefully at the alley behind Lupin, and when he saw that there was no one there, he closed the door with his wand with confidence.

Lupin walked straight to the bar.

The shadow behind the bar moved, and a figure slowly moved out.

The candle flame danced, casting light on the face torn by the wolf's claws. The hideous scars seemed to come alive, twitching slightly with the movement.

Marcus picked up a relatively clean glass with his rough fingers, wiped it twice with the rough cloth, and poured Lupin a glass of slightly pale butter beer.

His voice was raspy like sandpaper grinding against wood:

"Your face is so red. So, what's in the newspaper... is true?"

His cloudy eyes swept over Lupin, then glanced at the several weak figures slowly gathering from the corner.

Marcus growled unhappily:

"What are you all doing here for? The next full moon is still a long way off, why are you rushing to give gifts to the god of death?"

Upon hearing this, the werewolves paused and looked a little embarrassed.

But his eyes were still fixed on Lupin, his vigilance mixed with a desire that was almost overflowing, and a deeper, less noticeable despair that had accumulated over the years.

Lupin turned his head, his usual gentle smile on his face, and nodded to the few people.

It was like a rare warm sun in winter, instantly dispelling the chill in this underground hotel.

"Nightshadow, Crescent Moon, and Frostpaw, long time no see."

His voice was not loud, but it was clearly heard by everyone.

After a pause, he said to Marcus, "Give them a glass of butterbeer, too. It's on me."

In this simple hotel, many werewolves use code names to protect each other's past.

Nightshadow, Crescent Moon, and Frostpaw looked so weak at the moment, it was obvious that they were unable to drink the wolfsbane potion during this full moon.

"Remus..." Night Shadow, a werewolf who looked young, moved his lips and spoke in a voice as thin as a mosquito, "We...we just want to ask..."

Marcus interrupted rudely, slamming three Butterbeers onto the bar with a thud, causing a little foam to splash.

"Why are you asking? Even if it's true, do you have any jingling Galleons in your pockets?"

He glared and scolded:

"Hurry up and finish your drink and go back to rest! Once you've rested enough, I'll see if there's any work for you!"

The three of them flinched at his roar.

He carefully picked up the cup of authentic butterbeer, which was a luxury for them, and silently retreated to the corner, sipping it in small sips.

Lupin looked at this werewolf uncle who had a cold exterior but a warm heart. Even though he looked like this, there were many werewolves who owed him a small amount of rent and meal money.

"Hasn't it been published in the Daily Prophet? I wrote to you yesterday and explained the situation in detail."

Marcus snorted heavily when he heard this.

From under the greasy bar, he pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet, which was so wrinkled and frayed at the corners that it had been read so many times.

Then he took out another copy of "The Quibbler" which was also wrinkled, stained with unknown oil and soup stains, and even had a few suspicious dark red stains.

You can tell how many hands a newspaper or magazine has passed through and how many times it has been read.

Marcus slammed the object on the bar, making a dull sound.

"I originally believed you to the point of 70%. After all, your name, Remus Lupin, is still worth a few copper knuts to us rats in the gutter."

He changed the subject, pointed at the two newspapers, and raised his voice suddenly:

"But that rubbish notice from the Ministry of Magic today, and the stuff written in this nonsense book..."

He paused and looked at Lupin deeply with a complicated expression:

"If we hadn't known each other for over a decade, I'd have thought you were collaborating with those bastards just to make fun of us pathetic wretches!"

Marcus' voice was filled with undisguised sarcasm and fatigue as he murmured the words from the newspaper:

"The welfare of werewolves? A brand new future?

The last time I heard such beautiful words was more than a decade ago, when some big shot wanted us, a bunch of filthy monsters, to be his cannon fodder against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!

Having said that, he slammed the table so hard that the wine in the glass spilled out.

"What's the result? Which of the Ministry of Magic's high-sounding policies has not pushed us to death?"

"'Werewolf Code of Conduct'? Bullshit! They just want to lock us all up so they can kill us all at once!"

"A werewolf registry? What a joke! It's just to make it easier for those self-proclaimed noble pure-blood wizards to hunt us down like animals one by one according to the list!"

Marcus became more and more excited as he spoke, the veins on his neck popped and saliva flew everywhere.

in the corner.

Nightshadow, Crescent Moon, and Frostpaw, who had been quietly sipping their butterbeer, also put down their cups and made low, bestial noises of agreement.

The way they looked at Lupin also changed quietly.

The faint light that had just risen seemed to be covered by thick dark clouds again, and vigilance and suspicion occupied their pupils again.

Chapter 369 I Believe! Because He Is a Hufflepuff

Lupin's expression didn't change.

It seemed as if Marcus's sarcastic questioning was just a breeze blowing across the hills.

Of course he knew that these fellows who were used to struggling in the gutter would subconsciously squint their eyes at any ray of light and look at it repeatedly with suspicion.

Douglas had already taken all these reactions into account and even provided several response plans as a courtesy.

He could also see that Marcus actually believed the authenticity of the drug to about 70%, and what he was really worried about were the complicated intentions behind the Ministry of Magic.

Lupin said slowly, still unhurriedly:

"I know! I understand everyone's concerns."

He paused, his eyes scanning the figures in the corner who had become tense again because of his words.

"So this time, Mr. Holmes plans to bypass the Ministry of Magic and sell the potion to everyone through another method."

When Marcus heard Lupin mention Mr. Holmes, an almost imperceptible glimmer flashed in his cloudy eyes, like a candle in the wind, swaying but not extinguished.

Lupin noticed Marcus's expression and continued:

"But we really can't completely bypass the Ministry of Magic and do this privately. After all, they also need to do some work to gain public approval.

If some partners really don't trust us, or have other considerations, they can actually go to the Ministry of Magic to register and apply.

But... the situation over there, and the subsequent chain reactions that may occur, are probably beyond our control."

He said this frankly without hiding anything.

As Marcus listened to Lupin, he unconsciously rubbed the greasy edge of the bar with his rough fingers, making a slight rustling sound.

He finally spoke, his voice still hoarse, but less irritable than before:

"Holmes... The reason I was willing to believe this potion was real, even before I saw you, was mainly because of him."

He raised his head and looked directly at Lupin with his cloudy eyes.

"Even if it wasn't you standing here today, Remus Lupin, I would still believe any news that came in the name of Sherlock Holmes."

"Because he's a Hufflepuff."

Marcus' voice was low and certain, as if the name of the academy itself represented an unspoken commitment and trust.

Lupin was silent for a moment. It seemed that if he had reported Glass's name from the beginning, it would have been easier. He couldn't help but smile bitterly. After all these years in the circle, he still couldn't match the trust between the colleges.

Ask yourself, if you were in their shoes, would you trust someone just because he or she is a Gryffindor?

Looking at Marcus, Lupin nodded seriously and said:

"Well, I believe him too. Mr. Holmes hopes that this matter can be handled by our own people, and that we can deliver the medicine safely and securely to every companion in need."

"Professor Holmes... and some like-minded friends, we are forming a mutual aid organization, or rather, a... company."

Lupin chose his words carefully, because the mutual aid society seemed too philanthropic.

"company?"

Marcus's thick eyebrows immediately twisted into a knot, and the scars on his face twisted together.

The little bit of trust that had just risen in his eyes seemed to be replaced by deep doubt.

"What exactly do you want to do? Open a werewolf circus?"

Nightshadow, Crescent Moon and Frostpaw in the corner also raised their heads and looked at Lupin warily, their hands holding the wine glasses tightened unconsciously.

Lupin spoke in a low voice, but it was clearly heard by every werewolf present:

"Let every one of us who needs help have access to the new wolfsbane potion. And, most importantly, there's no need to go through the damn registration process of the Ministry of Magic!"

Yueya, the young werewolf with a few fresh scratches on his face, sneered almost immediately:

"How is this possible?! How could those ruthless people in the Ministry of Magic just watch this happen?"

He looked Lupin up and down suspiciously and said sharply:

"Are they planning some new trick to catch all of us filthy monsters in one fell swoop so they can show off to their noble minister?"

Marcus snapped, "Crescent Moon!"

Lupin stopped Marcus.

He fully understood their wariness.

For a long time, the oppression, discrimination and repeated betrayals of the werewolf group by the Ministry of Magic and society have made them like frightened birds, and they dare not easily believe any seemingly beautiful promises.