Adrian wasn't entirely clear on exactly how Dumbledore had dealt with Peter after that shocking revelation in the dormitory, but he learned from Remus that Peter seemed to be temporarily housed somewhere within the Hogwarts castle.
The arrangement was made to protect him from Black's pursuit, though Adrian suspected there were deeper reasons for keeping the man so close.
Moreover, news of Peter's survival hadn't been spread beyond the small circle of those who had witnessed his transformation. Dumbledore hoped they could keep this explosive secret until Black was captured.
Besides this earth-shattering revelation, ever since Scabbers had transformed back into his human form, Ron's condition hadn't improved in the slightest—if anything, he seemed to be growing worse with each passing day. He remained listless and withdrawn, his usual vibrant demeanor was replaced by a hollow-eyed stare.
During Adrian's classes, Ron appeared utterly absent-minded, his glazed eyes would be staring through the classroom windows. There wasn't much Adrian could do about the boy's condition; he had already done what he could by offering comfort and chocolate, but some wounds could only heal with time.
Harry, meanwhile, had suddenly become intensely interested in Animagus magic, approaching Adrian after nearly every class with eager questions about the details of the transformation process.
It was indeed interesting and deeply practical magic, Adrian thought as he watched Harry's enthusiasm grow.
The ability to transform into an animal form opened up countless possibilities for both defense and reconnaissance. After careful consideration, Adrian recommended that Harry seriously consider learning it, as with the his natural talent and determination, mastering Animagus transformation shouldn't be much tough.
However, this complex magic required numerous prerequisites—advanced Transfiguration theory, months of meditation and preparation, and a level of magical control that most wizards didn't achieve until their later years.
Understanding these challenges, Harry made the decision to attempt the transformation during the long summer holiday, when he would have uninterrupted time to focus on the demanding process.
Only seven people were officially registered as Animagi with the Ministry of Magic, but Adrian knew that far more had mastered this extraordinary magic—many more, in fact.
The official records were surely incomplete, since no rational wizard wanted to reveal their Animagus form to the bureaucratic machinery of the Ministry. Such registration was essentially painting a target on one's back for anyone seeking to exploit such knowledge.
Maintaining a secret Animagus form was an excellent trump card for most wizards who possessed the skill. It provided unparalleled opportunities for espionage, escape, and protection that could mean the difference between life and death in dangerous situations.
For instance, Adrian had never revealed his own Animagus form to anyone, though he privately questioned what practical use turning into a hedgehog could possibly serve in most circumstances.
The small, spiny creature was hardly intimidating or particularly useful for reconnaissance.
If he could turn into a bird, at least he could fly and gain aerial advantages—but fate, it seemed, had a sense of humor when it came to magical transformations.
Life at Hogwarts continued with its familiar rhythms.
Peter was probably hidden somewhere else within the castle by Dumbledore's careful arrangements—at least Adrian hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of the nervous man again.
In early October, as autumn settled over the Scottish Highlands like a colorful blanket, the temperature gradually turned cool and crisp. Adrian also changed into a thicker dark gray robe.
While he was enjoying a peaceful breakfast in the Great Hall savoring the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and the comforting warmth of hot porridge, Remus approached him.
"Sorry to trouble you, Adrian," Remus said wearily.
"Don't worry about it—I've done this many times before," Adrian replied easily. "I've substituted for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the past two years, remember? It's becoming a yearly tradition."
Yes, because yesterday had been the full moon, Remus simply didn't have the energy to teach today's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. He had asked Adrian to substitute for him.
Adrian had readily agreed—he was already experienced with this particular arrangement and had developed effective lesson plans for such occasions.
However, this time he would have to handle all grade levels since Remus really didn't want Snape substituting for him.
"How long do your aftereffects typically last?" Adrian asked Remus with curiosity.
"Usually, a morning or a full day," Remus sighed deeply, unconsciously rolling his shoulders as if trying to work out lingering stiffness.
"This is actually quite good, considering. The potion you gave me last time seemed remarkably effective in reducing the severity of the transformation. If it were ordinary Wolfsbane Potion, I'd need to rest for several days to recover fully."
Adrian nodded inwardly with quiet satisfaction—his Purification Potion was indeed very effective, demonstrably superior to the standard Wolfsbane Potion in both reducing transformation pain and accelerating recovery time.
He'd heard that Damocles Belby, the inventor of Wolfsbane Potion, had even received an Order of Merlin for his groundbreaking contribution to werewolf welfare. Adrian found himself wondering idly if his own Purification Potion would earn him a similar medal if he made it public knowledge.
Of course, he was just thinking about it in a purely hypothetical sense—he wouldn't actually pursue such recognition. After all, no one else could replicate the Purification Potion's unique properties, and revealing its existence would only attract other's greed.
At this moment, Remus paused in their conversation, his expression growing thoughtful as he reached into his robes. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled out a small glass bottle from his pocket.
"This is the Wolfsbane Potion Snape brewed for me this month. Actually, I told Dumbledore that I didn't need it anymore, but he still asked Snape to prepare some as a precautionary measure. Um... This particular batch of Wolfsbane Potion smells moldy."
Adrian looked at the bottle with interest and immediately noticed that it was still completely full—clearly Remus hadn't consumed so much as a single drop of the concoction.
"It seems my potion isn't worthy of your refined taste, Lupin."
The cold, cutting voice came from behind them, and both men turned to find that Snape had somehow appeared beside their table with his characteristic silent approach.
His black eyes were fixed on the Wolfsbane Potion in Remus's hand. Obviously, he had noticed that Remus hadn't consumed the potion he had so carefully—if unwillingly—prepared.
"I have no particular requirements about potion taste," Remus replied with a shrug, as he returned the untouched Wolfsbane Potion to Snape. "But unfortunately, I no longer need it."
Snape's already pale face darkened like a thundercloud, his lips pressing into a thin line of displeasure. He knew his relationship with Lupin was essentially that of sworn enemies.
In his view, Lupin's casual rejection of his Wolfsbane Potion meant that someone else more suitable was providing the necessary magical assistance—someone who not only knew about Lupin's werewolf identity, but also maintained a good relationship with him, possessed advanced skills in potions, and was likely a fellow Hogwarts professor.
So, who could this mysterious benefactor be? The answer wasn't hard to guess at all.
Snape turned his sharp gaze to Adrian, who was sitting nearby and observing the exchange.
"?" Adrian suddenly found Snape's cold stare directed at him and felt genuinely bewildered by the unexpected scrutiny. Had he done something to displease him again?
However, Snape quickly withdrew his accusatory gaze and looked back at Remus, leaning forward slightly. "You'd better hide your little secret well, Lupin, otherwise—even Dumbledore couldn't keep a dangerous monster at Hogwarts indefinitely."
Remus smiled faintly. "That's not your concern, Snape. I'm quite capable of managing my own affairs."
In fact, he didn't consider himself particularly dangerous anymore. Thanks to Adrian's Purification Potion, he could now maintain control of his faculties on full moon nights without requiring any Wolfsbane Potion at all.
The excruciating pain that had once accompanied his transformations had lessened considerably, and after returning to human form, he felt only slight fatigue rather than the devastating exhaustion that had once overwhelmed him for days.
Snape swept away from their table, his black robes billowing behind him like the wings of some great, angry bird.
"He's still exactly the same," Remus said with weary helplessness to Adrian, shaking his head in resignation. "Exactly like when we were students together, though he seems to hate me even more intensely now than he did then."
"Everyone knows about that ancient history," Adrian replied with understanding sympathy.
When he had been a student at Hogwarts, the poor relationship between Snape and the Marauders had been common knowledge throughout the school—even he, as a lower-year student at the time, had heard the stories about their legendary antagonism.
Just then, the Great Hall's doors were pushed open with a loud, resounding bang. The sudden noise caused dozens of students to look up from their breakfast plates in surprise.
Adrian and Remus turned toward the entrance to see Hagrid striding through the doorway. He wore his characteristic checkered shirt and thick wool vest, but his usual jovial demeanor was absent.
Upon seeing Adrian and Remus sitting nearby, Hagrid's eyes lit up with obvious relief, and he hurried over to their table with surprising speed for such a large man. His heavy footsteps thundered across the stone floor, causing several younger students to move hastily out of his path.
Adrian keenly noticed that Hagrid's wild hair and tangled beard were more disheveled than usual. More concerning was the fact that he held a tattered piece of cloth in his hands, gripping it as if it were a venomous snake he was reluctant to touch.
"Sorry to interrupt your breakfast," Hagrid panted heavily, his broad chest heaving as he stroked his unruly beard with his free hand. "But I found this in the Forbidden Forest during my morning patrol, and I thought you should see it immediately."
Adrian and Remus's gazes fell simultaneously on the ragged cloth in Hagrid's massive grip—what appeared to be clothing so thoroughly torn and battered that it was barely recognizable as having once been a clothing. Even for a vagrant living rough in the wilderness, this wouldn't qualify as proper clothing.
Remus's brow furrowed with growing concern as he studied the tattered remains more closely. "This is..."
"Black's belongings—his Azkaban prison clothes," Hagrid said in a hushed voice, glancing around nervously to ensure they weren't overheard. "He must have been in the Forbidden Forest, probably not too long ago."
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