Hogwarts: I graduated before the system came

"I am willing to provide all the information I know about Greyback and the Red Moon Brotherhood, and to assist you to the best of my ability."

"Great, deal!"

Douglas didn't give him any room to regret and immediately took over the conversation.

"We don't have much time. We must severely injure or even eliminate Greyback before the next full moon."

He leaned forward slightly, and an invisible sense of oppression enveloped the entire cave.

"Otherwise, once he gets a chance to breathe, or fully integrates with the Red Moon Brotherhood, it will take some time to find him."

Marco's expression instantly turned serious. He certainly understood what this meant.

Douglas nodded with satisfaction, but then changed the subject and looked at Marco sharply:

"But the assistance I want isn't just empty talk. Given your tribe's current state, how much combat power can you spare?" Marco's face darkened. His recent decision didn't make him ignore the predicament before him. He met Douglas's gaze and said in a deep voice:

"Holy Light and curses have brought down half of our warriors, but as long as my people can still stand, we will not retreat..."

Before he finished speaking, he realized that Aldo's wound was healed by the other party.

With a glimmer of hope, he looked at Douglas.

"You mean..."

Douglas's eyes swept across Marco's face, which was a mixture of expectation and despair, and a confident smile appeared on the corner of his mouth:

"I can heal your injuries. If you're willing, I can try."

Marco was overjoyed and quickly stood up, explaining, "From the moment I invited you, I never doubted your ability! I trust Isa's judgment!"

Lupin also stood up, with a smile on his face, and patted Marco on the shoulder:

"But you have to give your people real hope first, right? I swear based on my own experience that Douglas is very good at dealing with magical damage! Don't forget, he is the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts." As they spoke, several people walked towards a cave.

Lift open a heavy animal skin curtain.

In an instant, a strong smell mixed with blood, rotten meat and desperate herbs hit my face. The smell was so thick that it almost choked my breath.

Behind the animal skin curtain, it seemed like a hell on earth.

This is the "infirmary" of the Ash Claw tribe.

A dozen seriously injured werewolves lay on simple beds made of straw and animal skins, their low groans and suppressed gasps intertwined into a painful symphony.

Their wounds appeared in a strange state.

Some of the wounds had charred edges, as if they had been burned by a branding iron, and there was a faint, disturbing holy light remaining, preventing the flesh and blood from healing.

Others oozed dark ichor and exuded a stench of corruption, the marks left by black magic curses.

An old woman with gray hair and a face full of wrinkles like walnut shells was trembling as she moved among the wounded.

She is the tribe's healer, Elena.

In her hands she held a stone bowl filled with a dark green slurry of crushed moss and herbs.

She carefully applied the medicinal mud to the hideous wound on a young man's arm, but the charred black color on the wound only dimmed slightly for a moment before stubbornly reappearing.

Elena's face was filled with exhaustion and sadness.

Marco's eyes were fixed on Douglas, with a last, desperate hope in his eyes.

"Professor, the treatment you mentioned..."

He subconsciously thought that this mysterious potion master would, like a magic trick, pull out several bottles of precious potions gleaming with strange luster and sprinkle them on his dying people like a sweet rain.

Douglas didn't answer immediately.

His eyes swept over every wounded person, as calm as a surgeon patrolling the ward, without showing any pity or panic.

Chapter 404 Come on, my dear children, let me show you the true strength of Hufflepuff's outstanding graduates

He walked over to Elena and, in a gentle tone, pointed to the medicinal mud in her stone bowl.

"Is this the rhizome of the agave and the leaves of the buckthorn?"

A hint of surprise flashed in Elena's cloudy eyes, and she nodded.

"Added Alpine rock moss to stop bleeding."

"That's a good idea," Douglas nodded. "Agave juice has a heat-clearing effect, and can barely counteract the heat and poison from Holy Light burns. The polysaccharides in the rock moss can also promote some basic healing."

His comments were precise and professional, not like those of an outsider at all.

"But it can't deal with the high-frequency energy vibrations left by the Holy Word Confinement, nor can it neutralize the dark magic of the Stasis and Corruption Curse."

Douglas looked at Marco and changed the subject.

"Potions are too inefficient for so many people, and the consumables I brought are not enough for your entire tribe to squander."

He pulled out a small notebook and a quill from his robe, as if the decisive trader just now and the rigorous scholar now were two different people.

He scribbled a list down on the parchment.

"I need you to collect these things."

He handed over the paper.

Marco and Elena came forward together and used the firelight to see the words clearly.

They can still understand the top few lines.

Pheasant or venison.

Wild porcini mushrooms.

Cherry tomatoes.

Rosemary sprigs.

Oregano.

Young dandelion leaves.

sage.

These are common products in the Apennine Mountains and forests. Some of them do have weak magical properties and are materials used in traditional Sicilian witchcraft and herbalism.

But what followed froze their expressions.

olive oil.

Red onion.

garlic.

Grated Parmesan cheese.

Hard bread.

There was silence in the cave.

All the awake werewolves looked at the list with disbelief.

Marco moved his lips, but he didn't know what to say.

This looks... more like a menu for a nice dinner than a life-saving prescription.

A young werewolf with a bloody bandage wrapped around his arm couldn't help but mutter to his companions in a hoarse voice:

"He...is he going to make us a final meal?"

The sound was not loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.

The atmosphere suddenly became awkward and weird.

A smile flashed across Lupin's face. He had a similar expression when he first learned the recipe of the initial version of the new wolfsbane potion.

The products that will be released later are all products that have been optimized and are in line with mainstream alchemy.

Otherwise, if only the initial version of the recipe is released...

Douglas didn't care. He put away the notebook with a playful smile on his face.

"The last meal of execution? No, this is called diet therapy."

He looked at the young werewolf.

"Believe me, my cooking is much more delicious than the nutritious meals at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries."

Although his heart was filled with doubts as huge as a mountain, Marco looked into Douglas's confident eyes and finally chose to trust him.

This was his only bet.

"Do as the professor says!" he growled at his tribe. "Now! Collect everything on the list!"

He sent out the hunters who were most familiar with the mountain terrain to look for those herbs and prey.

Another team was sent to the Muggle village at the foot of the mountain with which they had secret dealings, and they exchanged furs for onions, garlic, and cheese.

Half a day later, when the angle of the sunlight began to shift to the west, all the materials were piled in the center of the cave.

Colorful and full of the breath of life, it is incompatible with the wails of the dying around it.

Douglas rolled up his sleeves and took out his tools from his seemingly ordinary pocket.

A huge, black cast iron pot, big enough to stew a whole lamb.

When it was placed on the campfire, it made a dull humming sound, as if a sleeping beast was awakened.

Next came a broad-bladed kitchen knife with a cold gleam, and a thick wooden chopping board.

This outfit doesn't look like a wizard, but more like a chef who is ready to show off his skills at a banquet.

Douglas placed a huge piece of pheasant meat on the stone slab and cut it with his knife.

"Bang!" The first sound of the chop was like the beating of a war drum.

The steady and rhythmic chopping sound actually drowned out the groans of the wounded step by step, like an invisible blade, cutting off the atmosphere of despair that filled the cave.

He didn't use any magic, just his hands.

The chicken was quickly cut into even pieces and placed in a ceramic bowl, adding salt, black pepper, and then two spoonfuls of golden olive oil.

He began massaging the lumps of flesh with his hands, his movements gentle and focused.

“Olive oil creates a protective energy barrier.”

Douglas's voice sounded, as if he was back in the kitchen of Hogwarts, teaching the house-elves.

"It not only makes the meat more tender, but also reduces the damage caused by the divine energy penetrating into the meat's vitality during stewing."

Next, he tackles the brown, wild boletus mushrooms.

They are soaked in warm salt water, squeezed dry and chopped into small pieces.

"Fungi are the essence of the forest. Their mycelial polysaccharides can enhance an organism's own magical resistance and combat the corruptive properties of black magic."

Dice the red onion and crush the garlic.

The young leaves of rosemary and sage are chopped, the oregano leaves are torn into pieces, and the young dandelion leaves are blanched in hot water with salt, squeezed dry and cut into sections.

Every movement of Douglas is precise and elegant. He doesn't look like a wizard, but more like a chef who has worked for thirty years.

A snap of the fingers.

The flames were blazing at the bottom of the pot.

With a sizzling sound, olive oil was poured into the hot cast iron pot, and the aroma of onions and garlic burst out instantly, dispelling some of the bloody and rotten smell in the cave.

Douglas's movements have a strange rhythm.

He is no longer the strategist professor or the shrewd trader.

He returned to his most comfortable area, relaxed completely, and even hummed an unknown tune.

"Professor, is this really... possible?"

Elena couldn't help but ask as she watched him throw the marinated pheasant chicken into the pan and stir-fry it until the surface was golden brown.

"Of course." Douglas said without looking up, "I proposed the theory of thermos being of the same origin when I was at Hogwarts."

He also poured the diced porcini mushrooms and cherry tomatoes into the pot and stir-fried them a few times.

"Simply put, the symbolic meaning of potions and the properties and flavors of food ingredients are essentially the same logic. Both achieve healing effects by endowing natural objects with transcendental meaning."