Deep down, he was worried Ian might run off to Diagon Alley to find another werewolf for his so-called research.
"Forget it. If I can solve the werewolf problem, I'll make way more money." Ian's relentless spirit came into full view, and Lupin was left speechless, unsure how to respond.
"I'm going to find Dumbledore."
In the end, his only option was to tattle to the Headmaster.
"Dumbledore will support me. Don't you know? Everyone at school calls me Ian Dumbledore!" Ian had clearly gauged just how little Lupin knew about him, and now he was pulling the ol' "borrow authority" trick.
"Hmm?"
Lupin indeed froze for a second, expression gradually becoming a mix of suspicion and uncertainty.
"Heal!" Ian whistled.
"Look, this is my phoenix!"
He held out a black phoenix that had just phased in from the void. To strengthen his claim, he even tried holding the struggling bird down to dye its feathers on the spot.
"Kyeh-kyeh-kyeh-kyeh-kyeh~"
The black Phoenix's terrified screech echoed throughout Lupin's room. The young werewolf felt his brain freeze up a little, he couldn't tell if Ian was telling the truth or just bluffing.
"Although it looks a bit odd and the cry is rather abstract... that Apparation-like feeling just now…" Lupin had no choice but to convince himself inwardly that the 'black chicken' Ian was holding really might be a Phoenix.
He suddenly realized that the serious and concerned expression on Albus Dumbledore's face when he'd asked him to watch over Ian might not have been only because he was worried about a Hogwarts student.
"Really, my Wolfsbane Potion is crazy good," Ian said, failing to hold onto the struggling black Phoenix that Apparated away, left with only a mouthful of Phoenix feathers and hands dripping with the bird's slobbery "revenge."
"This isn't a question of whether you can brew Wolfsbane or not…"
Lupin tried once again to dissuade the little wizard.
However,
Knock knock knock~
A knocking sound came from outside the room.
"Ian, Ian, time to eat! Ask Uncle Lupin if he's eating too?" came Catherine's childish voice, tinged with the urgency of someone afraid the pork-and-cabbage stew might get eaten up by the other kids.
"Food first. We'll talk about this afterward." Ian packed all his things back into his money pouch.
"You all go ahead, I won't be coming out tonight. It's not a full moon, but... I still want everyone to get used to my habits," Lupin said, exhaling in relief as he waved the little wizard away.
"Mr. Lupin, think it over seriously. Do you want to spend your whole life cowering in a dark corner, or do you want to embrace a hope that lets you walk in the sunlight…? Even if there's just the tiniest shred of hope, I think you should grasp it." Ian said softly, earnestly, looking back at Lupin. Under Lupin's somewhat evasive gaze, Ian turned the doorknob and stepped outside.
The little wizard left the door open behind him.
Taking Catherine with him, he headed for the feast hall.
…
Inside the room…
Lupin slumped unceremoniously to the ground, staring at the hallway beyond the open door, where warm light spilled from the corridor into the dim room.
"There's no such thing as hope… Wolfsbane Potion isn't hope."
The young werewolf raised his hand and gave a small wave. Magical power surged, and the door slammed shut behind Ian, plunging the room back into darkness once again.
…
The Next Day
The rain had passed, and the skies had cleared.
The orphanage in London greeted a bright and sunny morning.
Sparrows chirped busily in the branches.
Sunlight filtered through the clouds and bathed the aged, weathered building in a warm golden glow. The orphanage courtyard, still moist with dew, exuded a fresh earthy fragrance that mingled with the scent of flowers and grass. Ian, who had gotten up early to read, felt refreshed and invigorated.
The children poured out of their rooms in neat, if slightly worn, clothes, their faces beaming with curiosity and anticipation for the new day. Some played tag in the yard, their laughter ringing out cheerfully; others sat quietly on benches, savoring the rare moment of peace.
Of course,
There were also little ones who ran straight to Ian.
"Ian! You really are our lucky star! It's only your second day back, and another kind-hearted person came to make a donation!" Catherine tried to mimic the overly polite tone of adults on TV.
However,
Her babyish little face just made her look like a goofy husky.
Which was kind of hilarious.
"A donor? Where? Take me to them!" Ian was instantly suspicious that his "good uncle" had returned in disguise. He perked up and quickly motioned for Catherine to lead the way.
It wasn't even the weekend.
Who comes to an orphanage to donate this early in the morning?
"This way! This way! The donor even had his daughter share candy with us! Not as good as the ones you gave me! But still really tasty!"
Catherine marched ahead like a little officer leading her "army." She had always loved reporting to Ian since she was small, then dragging him to where visitors were so she could hear him talk big and make jokes about them.
"They're in Miss Helena's office!" Catherine led Ian right to the Director's office door. But just as they arrived, the door opened, and she hurriedly dragged Ian to hide behind the wall.
"That's the kind person! And his daughter's so nice! She gave me two pieces of candy!" Catherine whispered on, but Ian was already looking at the man stepping out.
A middle-aged man was accompanied by a daughter just over ten years old.
"I think this donation will mean a lot. I can see it from the smiles on these children's faces. I trust every cent will go where it should."
The middle-aged man was still conversing with Miss Helena, the Director.
He looked to be in his forties, tall and lean, with refined manners. He wore a well-tailored dark suit, a crisp white shirt, and a neat tie, radiating the air of a classic British gentleman.
"Of course. We keep a detailed record of every expense. Donors and the public alike have the right to monitor how the funds are used," Miss Helena responded with a broad smile. From her expression, it was clear this donation wasn't a small one. She appeared quite formal in front of the man.
Normally, she wasn't picky about the number of people who donated. But when it came to wealthy donors, she couldn't help feeling a little nervous about accidentally offending them.
Rich people were unpredictable.
Say the wrong thing and they might just take offense.
"Although I usually do a bit of charity work with my lover, I've never donated such a large amount, twenty thousand pounds, to any charitable organization before."
"This isn't a small sum for me either. You might laugh, but the reason I'm here today… is partly selfish. I'm hoping that God might forgive some of my past mistakes because of this."
"At the very least… not punish my daughter." The middle-aged man looked at the silent girl beside him. The little girl with a head of fluffy brown hair seemed somewhat distracted.
"She's been… experiencing some strange things recently." The man let out a heavy sigh, his tone full of worry, though he didn't elaborate further to Miss Helena.
In fact, Miss Helena had encountered plenty of similar situations before.
To people in Britain, it wasn't uncommon to try to seek God's protection at the last minute, especially among the wealthy. So Miss Helena knew exactly how to respond.
"I will keep this child in my prayers. And I truly believe that a merciful God would never let such a lovely child suffer painful hardships."
Miss Helena temporarily shifted into the role of a devout believer.
Her words made the middle-aged man visibly pleased.
However, the little girl looked up at Miss Helena and said,
"If there really were a God in this world, if God truly answered people's prayers, then there wouldn't be famine in Africa and so many other poor countries."
"Ma'am, no offense, but maybe you should watch the science and education channel on Saturdays…" Even though her mind was heavy with worry, the girl still weakly muttered a rebuttal.
Of course, She was mainly speaking to her father, who had dragged her here to donate money without telling her mother. The girl wasn't against donating to help others, but she clearly held no belief in so-called divinity or superstition.
"You've already experienced several of those strange incidents… how can you still refuse to accept the truth?" The middle-aged man said cryptically, rubbing his daughter's head firmly.
(To Be Continued…)
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