Chapter 319: Lupin

Green’s Bookshop stood not far from the Three Broomsticks, and the large holly tree at its entrance, hung with ribbons, could be seen faintly.

Justin gazed at the bookshop for a moment, then turned his eyes to the dazed Wizard Sean and stopped walking, instead fixing his gaze on the Three Broomsticks before them.

It was a small inn glowing with warm light, its entrance bearing a sign that read:

“Serving Butterbeer (specialty), lemonade, hot mulled wine, red wine, cherry juice, and soda water.”

“How about we go have a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks? I’ve wanted one for a long time.”

He suggested, with ten minutes still left before opening.

“Alright.”

Wizard Sean replied, and the two walked toward the pub.

Outside, the wind was biting, freezing their hands; inside, it was entirely different.

The interior was packed and noisy, hot and thick with smoke.

A handsome woman with graceful curves was serving a row of boisterous wizards at the bar.

“That’s Madam Rosmerta, isn’t it?”

Justin said,

“Before opening, I looked into the local wizards… I’ll go get three Butterbeers at the bar.”

He naturally left.

Wizard Sean squeezed to the back of the pub, where a small empty table sat between the window and a beautiful holly tree, near the fireplace.

And there, sitting exactly, was a wizard with gray hair, tattered clothes, looking worn, pale, and exhausted.

“Excuse me, may I sit here?”

Wizard Sean asked.

“Please, be my guest.”

The weary wizard said.

He sipped his Butterbeer slowly, pausing between each swallow, then gazed wearily into the distance.

There, Green’s Bookshop still displayed its hiring notice.

Justin’s offered wage was not low—fifteen Galleons per week—quite generous.

A wizard could barely survive on ten Galleons a week; to earn fifteen just by doing odd jobs at a bookstore made the notice highly attractive.

Not to mention the manager’s compensation—thirty-five Galleons per week, with meals and lodging provided, plus bonus pay.

“Do you want to apply for the manager position?”

Wizard Sean asked.

“I’m not qualified.”

The weary wizard smiled and shook his head; he hadn’t realized his emotions were so obvious, even to this young wizard.

“You should apply.”

Wizard Sean thought for a moment and said.

The weary wizard chuckled silently; the boy had sharp observation, yet seemed quiet and reserved.

Five minutes later, Justin arrived, carrying three steaming mugs of foaming Butterbeer.

“Happy Halloween!”

He raised his mug and smiled,

“Sir, may I have the honor of buying you a drink?”

Half the wizard’s face was hidden beneath his hood, but Wizard Sean knew he was startled.

“Happy Halloween.”

He finally took the mug.

Wizard Sean took a tentative sip—it was a strange thing, warming every inch of his body.

Outside, snow and wind raged; suddenly, a cold gust stirred Wizard Sean’s hair.

The door of the Three Broomsticks opened; Wizard Sean looked over the rim of his mug and quickly ducked his head.

“Go.”

He said,

And vanished instantly.

Justin, confused, quickly cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself, then saw Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick storm in with a swirl of snow, followed by Hagrid, his expression far from good.

Lupin sipped his Butterbeer slowly, eyes half-closed.

He hadn’t seen anything this interesting in a long time—two Hogwarts students who looked perfectly well-behaved, yet were breaking school rules…

“Filius, have you heard about what’s happened lately?”

At the bar, Professor McGonagall asked.

A woman’s voice replied:

“A small glass of violet water—”

“Mine.”

Professor McGonagall took the glass.

“Four pints of honeywine—”

The voice spoke again.

“Thanks, Rosmerta.”

Hagrid said.

“A soda with ice and umbrella-screw cherry syrup—”

“Mm!”

Professor Flitwick licked his lips and said,

“The little ones have been terrified by that rumor—you know, Penelope’s asked me several times.”

Because Hagrid was present, Flitwick didn’t specify what the rumor was.

“Is it true?”

Professor McGonagall appeared to be asking Flitwick, but her gaze never left Hagrid.

Hagrid kept his head down, drinking honeywine, showing no sign of disturbance.

Yet both McGonagall and Flitwick understood—this demeanor was utterly unlike Hagrid.

“I fear so.”

Professor Flitwick spoke as if reading her mind; they saw Hagrid’s body twitch.

“This is trouble.”

Professor McGonagall said, and Hagrid relaxed again.

“Perhaps the trouble is already resolved?”

Professor Flitwick said in his high-pitched voice.

Hagrid tensed again.

His reactions were too predictable—he grew tense when truth was mentioned, relaxed when falsehood was spoken.

Most crucially, it was unconscious—he had no idea he was doing it.

“I’ll, I’ll, I’ll go buy some…”

Hagrid mumbled haltingly, then hurried away, none of them catching what he said.

Wizard Sean watched quietly; Hagrid seemed furious with himself, stomping into a puddle without caring that his boots were now caked in mud.

He was a man of rough exterior and delicate heart. His wisdom stopped just short of fully realizing he’d done wrong—hovering between rarely making mistakes and being completely unaware.

As he walked, he reached the entrance of Green’s Bookshop.

Justin was inside assigning tasks and placing Wizard Sean’s signed books; Wizard Sean stood at the door, watching the nearby hiring notice, the distant Three Broomsticks, and Hagrid not far off.

“Happy Halloween. Good to see you here.”

Wizard Sean whispered; his voice drifted into Hagrid’s mind like snow and rain.

“Wizard Sean?!”

Hagrid stared at him blankly.

“Wizard Sean.”

His face crumpled instantly.

“I heard. It’s fine.”

Wizard Sean waved his wand; the mud on Hagrid’s boots vanished.

Hagrid’s lips trembled; he always failed to keep secrets, always caused trouble.

Last time, he drunkenly revealed how to pass the three-headed dog, nearly getting Harry killed; now he’d fully leaked news of the Basilisk.

“It’s fine.”

Wizard Sean added.

This would inevitably come to light; once reported, hiding the truth at Hogwarts would be impossible.

Wizard Sean had already made his plans.

A faint silver-white sun shone over the grounds; Hogsmeade was always draped in silver, snow piled thick on pine branches, and Wizard Sean saw a figure approaching.

He whispered:

“Cheer up, Hagrid. You’ve only helped me say something a little early.”