Consumption

Lupin stared at the sword in Harry's hand. "Do you really have to cut me?"

Harry nodded.

Lupin took a deep breath, his wolfish face filled with resignation. "Go ahead."

"What part do you prefer?" Harry examined Lupin's body. "Tenderloin? Ribeye? Rump? Thigh?"

Lupin shuddered. "Harry, you don't have to be so specific—just take any piece."

It made him feel like he was nothing more than a slab of meat on Molly's chopping board.

Harry raised his sword and slashed at Lupin's thigh.

Lupin let out a short "Awooo!" but then paused, confused. He had braced himself for agony, but the pain was surprisingly mild—completely tolerable. It was even less painful than the bruises he got from play-wrestling with Sirius.

He looked down at his leg.

Harry had sliced off only a thin sliver of flesh—not even five grams.

Tonks rushed over, brandishing her wand, hands full of dittany, looking utterly frantic.

"That's it?" Lupin asked, puzzled.

Harry gave him a strange look. "Didn't eat enough at dinner? Want a bigger portion now?"

He lifted his sword. "I can cut a little more—"

"No!" Lupin shouted, raising a hand in reflex.

His sharp claws whistled through the air, narrowly missing Tonks' head. But the young Hufflepuff didn't flinch, nor did she cower. Instead, she remained completely focused on tending to his wound. Even though it was a shallow cut, she slathered an excessive amount of dittany onto it and nearly wrapped an entire roll of bandages around his leg.

Lupin, both embarrassed and anxious, opened his mouth to say something.

"Open up," Harry commanded.

Lupin instinctively bared his fangs.

With a flick of his wand, Harry levitated the small piece of flesh into Lupin's mouth. "If you feel anything unusual, say so. Even as a werewolf, you still have a mouth. You can still speak."

Sirius blinked in surprise. He definitely felt like that last sentence was a dig at him.

Harry watched Lupin closely.

Feeding a werewolf its own flesh wasn't a known cure. That werewolf from legend—Morkvarg—had broken his curse by eating his own flesh, but it had also turned him to ash.

However, that wasn't due to lycanthropy. Morkvarg had been afflicted by another curse—one that turned all food he ate into ashes.

When he consumed his own flesh, he became food. Thus, he had also turned to ash.

This legend had given Harry an idea—perhaps werewolf flesh had some effect on lycanthropy.

A few minutes later.

"Tonks, you're using way too much bandage," Harry remarked, watching her eagerly reach for a second roll.

Tonks looked up, momentarily dazed. Her hair, originally red, began fading into a light purple hue. "Remus is injured."

"This is more than enough," Harry said. "Didn't they teach you this in Auror training? Three or four layers is plenty."

Tonks gasped and looked at Harry. "Should I redo it?"

"Completely unwrap it and start over," Harry nodded.

"Why?" Tonks asked, puzzled.

"Disinfect again, and re-bandage properly. That's common sense," Harry replied, looking at her curiously. "What exactly does the Ministry teach you?"

Tonks hesitated. "Mostly counter-charms and how to identify Dark wizards." She carefully began unwrapping the excessive bandages. "It's not that different from what we learned at Hogwarts—except spells like the Stunning Charm and Shield Charm are mandatory."

"If you want to get promoted, you also have to master advanced defensive spells like the Shield Charm."

Harry and Sirius both fell silent.

Lupin scratched his face awkwardly.

"So… three years of Auror training, and they only teach you the Stunning Charm and the Shield Charm?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Tonks shook her head. "They also teach some unlocking spells, Finite Incantatem, but that's basic Hogwarts stuff. Hardly anyone fails those."

"Three years wasted," Harry concluded.

Tonks didn't even look up, waving her wand to remove the excess dittany. She had finally realized she had severely over-applied it. "Not a waste. We get a ten-Galleon weekly stipend during training."

"Eat, drink, and do nothing. Work from ten in the morning to four-thirty in the afternoon. Then, collect ten Galleons at the end of the week."

Sirius grumbled, "No wonder Aurors are the way they are."

Harry turned to Lupin. "How do you feel?"

"Kind of… gamey," Lupin muttered, lost in thought.

"I wasn't asking about the taste," Harry said, poking him in the waist. "How does your body feel?"

Lupin shook his head. "Nothing special."

"It was just like eating any other piece of meat."

Harry tapped his wand against Lupin, scanning him for any changes. Maybe something had happened that he simply hadn't noticed yet.

But—no luck.

Absolutely nothing had changed.

"Well, let's move on to the next experiment." Harry tapped his pocket, and hundreds of different ingredients flew out, filling the small round table.

The sheer variety left Tonks wide-eyed. Some of these materials she had heard of but never seen before.

"Harry?" Lupin's voice trembled slightly.

"No rush. We'll go through them one by one—the night is still young," Harry said softly, summoning a small vial of clear liquid.

These were all ingredients he had discussed with Snape over the past month—substances that might have some effect on lycanthropy.

"Most of these make sense, but why is there a Love Potion?" Lupin asked, staring at one particular vial. "Did you grab the wrong one?"

"Would I ever need a Love Potion?" Harry retorted.

Lupin hesitated. "Wait… are you saying I would need a Love Potion?"

Harry nodded. "Professor Snape and I both believe that pure, unconditional love might counteract the werewolf curse. Since you don't have any, we'll have to improvise with a Love Potion."

Tonks looked up at Harry.

Harry immediately caught the glance and turned to look at her.

Tonks quickly averted her eyes, her cheeks turning red.

Lupin hesitated. "I suddenly really want to bite you."

Harry remained unfazed. "Unlike Sirius, I won't go easy on you. Stay put."

He uncorked the vial, let a single drop fall onto Lupin's fur, and activated his Witcher senses to analyze the magic.

Lupin's body was shrouded in dark, swirling energy—the unmistakable signature of lycanthropy. The Love Potion's magic spread slightly, dissolving a tiny section of it, but was immediately overwhelmed by the aggressive, savage nature of the curse.

"This does have an effect," Harry noted, conjuring a second table and placing the vial on it.

"What is that? Phoenix tears?" Tonks asked curiously.

Harry shook his head. "No. Hermione's tears."

Tonks froze, her excitement flaring. "Does Hermione have some special magical bloodline?"

"No," Harry said. "They're virgin tears."

"Virgin tears have some effect on lycanthropy," he continued, picking up the Love Potion.

Tonks fell into deep thought.

Harry poured the Love Potion into Lupin's mouth. The potion's effects began taking hold, but the dark energy of his werewolf curse didn't weaken in the slightest.

"Love Potion doesn't work," Harry sighed, handing Lupin an antidote. "Fake love really does do nothing."

As Lupin blinked through the haze of the potion, Tonks suddenly asked, "Harry, would true love, combined with virgin tears, be able to cure lycanthropy?"

Harry nodded seriously. "It should be more effective—but I don't have any to test."

Tonks said nothing, lowering her head.

Lupin groggily asked, "What were you two just talking about?"

Harry shook his head. "Discussing your condition." He picked up the next ingredient.

Harry picked up the next ingredient.

Phoenix tears—an incredibly rare substance. But fortunately, Harry had plenty. Fawkes provided him with fresh ones every month.

Yet this thing, which was considered a miracle cure in the wizarding world, had absolutely no effect.

So… where was the problem?

Was Fawkes male or female?

One by one, they tested every ingredient. By the time the last one was used, the moon had already disappeared behind the house, no longer visible.

Out of over a hundred materials, only a few showed even a slight effect:

Hermione's tears, unicorn blood, Veela eyelashes, and mistletoe berries—no wolfsbane among them.

Silver powder didn't dispel the curse but seemed to stabilize it. And garlic—despite having no magical properties—also showed a minor ability to weaken the dark magic in werewolves.

Only these six ingredients had any measurable impact.

"I feel like one of those poor people in Muggle movies," Lupin groaned, sprawled on the floor, resting his head on a pillow Tonks had brought him. "The kind who get abducted by aliens and used for weird experiments."

"Harry, just because werewolves have thick skin doesn't mean you can abuse them."

"At least it worked," Harry said, looking at the second table, where the successful ingredients were placed. "Counting parsley, that makes seven. Once I return to Hogwarts, I should be able to work with Snape and develop a potion within two weeks."

"Of course, you'll have to take it under our supervision."

Harry paused. "Though honestly, I'd rather capture another werewolf to test on first. It would be much safer."

Lupin turned to look at Tonks.

Tonks, however, was completely unfazed. "Why are you looking at me? Aurors protect wizarding society, not werewolves. That's the job of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"We'll wait for Skeeter's report. Then we'll capture one," Harry nodded, settling the matter. "Snape's interested in this too."

Sirius muttered under his breath, "Since when did you and Snivellus get along so well?"

"We've always had a decent relationship," Harry replied casually.

Sirius bared his teeth in irritation, then transformed into his Animagus form—a large black dog—and curled up beside Lupin.

Tonks conjured a blanket and sat down next to them.

Dawn arrived quietly.

Lupin slowly transformed back into his human form. The three of them—two people and a dog—were exhausted from the long night and had already fallen asleep.

Harry covered them with the blanket, waved his wand to adjust the room temperature to something comfortable, and quietly left, closing the door behind him.

He needed rest too.

Rita Skeeter, true to her reputation as the wizarding world's most brilliant journalist, had wasted no time. Within just a few days of starting at The Quibbler, she had already published an article that sent the magazine's sales skyrocketing.

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Powerstones?

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