Fifteen Galleons.
That was the price Harry and Scrimgeour agreed upon after a heated negotiation.
The Aurors would escort Harry to King's Cross Station, and Scrimgeour would pay Harry for playing along.
September 1st.
Under the Aurors' nervous protection, Harry traveled through the Floo Network to the Leaky Cauldron, then by car directly to King's Cross Station. They even accompanied him inside the station.
A short woman with stiff features, exaggeratedly curled hair, and glasses resembling beetle shells waved a camera in Harry's face, snapping pictures relentlessly.
She seemed determined to shove the lens directly into Harry's face.
It wasn't until the train was about to depart that Harry managed to slip away.
The woman sighed in disappointment—she had only managed two rolls of film. Hardly enough for a proper photo collection.
"They're so over-the-top," Hermione muttered as Harry finally rejoined her and Ron, who had been waiting by the door.
"Earning money isn't easy," Harry said, sighing.
"Money? What money?" Ron's ears perked up at the mention, always sensitive to the topic.
Harry glanced at the Aurors retreating outside and explained, "For playing along in this act with the Aurors—fifteen Galleons."
Ron gulped, his expression full of envy. "You got fifteen Galleons for that?"
"That's Harry," Hermione said sharply, waving her wand to lift their luggage. "If it were you, even if you paid them fifteen Galleons, they still wouldn't bother."
Ron grumbled, "Not necessarily. Ministry officials are desperate for money."
Hermione paused, considering Ron's circumstances, then nodded in reluctant agreement.
The train began to move.
Making their way through the crowded compartments, they found most of them already full of students. Only near the very end of the train did they come across a compartment with just one occupant.
Inside was an adult wizard, slumped against the window and apparently asleep.
They crept in quietly.
Once seated, they got a better look at the man. His robes were clean but very old, patched in several places—a rarity among wizards, as even the poorest could use magic to mend their clothes.
His face was thin and pale, almost sickly, though his features were somewhat handsome. He looked frail and weak, as though a stiff breeze could knock him over.
"This isn't a student train, is it?" Ron whispered. "Who's he?"
"Professor R.J. Lupin," Hermione replied.
Ron blinked in surprise. "How do you know that?" He would've been less shocked if Harry had answered.
Hermione didn't reply but pointed to the luggage rack above them.
Ron followed her gesture and saw a battered suitcase with the same worn edges and scratches as its owner.
Stamped on the corner of the case was the name R.J. Lupin.
Ron turned back to examine the man more closely. "Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? He looks decent enough. He's not another Lockhart, is he?"
"No," Harry said, shaking his head and studying Lupin with a penetrating gaze. "He might actually be a competent professor."
Lupin's ears twitched ever so slightly.
"But he looks so weak," Ron muttered. "One swing from a troll, and he'd be flattened like a pancake…"
Hermione glared at Ron, silencing him.
Ron sighed, slumping back in his seat. "Fine, fine. I just hope he's up to the job. We haven't had a proper Defense Against the Dark Arts class in two years. Except for Harry, no one in our year can get an 'Outstanding' grade."
Hermione gritted her teeth, clearly annoyed. She turned to Harry, who was still staring at Lupin. "Harry, do you know this professor?"
"I've heard of him, but we've never met," Harry replied softly.
Lupin's ears twitched again.
Hermione frowned, trying to recall. "Is Lupin famous? I don't remember reading about him in any of my books."
"He was a friend of my father's," Harry said casually.
Lupin's breathing quickened.
"Ah, I see," Hermione nodded. "Then he must be a talented wizard."
Harry nodded. "My grandfather mentioned him a lot—said he was proud, skilled, and hardworking."
Lupin's breath hitched, and his heart pounded furiously.
"Looks like we've finally got a decent professor this year," Ron said, leaning back and relaxing as he glanced at Lupin, relieved to have someone promising nearby.
But before he could finish his sentence, Harry pulled out his wand and placed his other hand on the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. Narrowing his eyes, he stood and fixed his gaze on Lupin.
"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, clutching Crookshanks tightly, clearly startled.
Harry held up his lion amulet, which was faintly humming.
"What's that?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
Ron explained, "It's the gift Bill gave Harry. It can sense malice directed at its wearer."
Lupin opened his eyes and raised his hands in a calming gesture, his tone gentle. "Relax, Harry. I don't have any ill intentions toward you."
The amulet gradually quieted.
Hermione pointed Crookshanks at Lupin, but the half-Kneazle merely yawned and curled up, falling asleep with no reaction.
Harry sat back down slowly, pulling Crookshanks into his lap. "Sorry to disturb your rest."
Lupin shook his head. "It's fine. I've had enough rest."
Ron frowned at the amulet. "Maybe it's broken? Should we ask Bill to replace it?"
Harry replayed the events in the compartment in his mind. "No, the amulet should be fine."
At King's Cross, the amulet had vibrated in Malfoy's presence.
But around others, it had remained still.
If anyone bore ill will toward him, it wasn't Lupin. He had been awake the entire time they were in the compartment.
If Lupin harbored ill intentions, he would've shown them earlier.
Perhaps… it was because he feared someone discovering his werewolf identity?
"Harry, I… I didn't expect you to know about me," Lupin stammered, lowering his head. "I'm sorry I never…"
"No need to apologize, Professor Lupin," Harry said, testing the waters. "My grandfather told me all about you, and I understand."
Lupin froze, his heart in his throat. "Everything?"
Harry nodded. "Everything."
Lupin let out a bitter laugh. "That's… quite something."
The amulet remained silent, showing no signs of movement.
"Compared to Tom and Lockhart, you're already an improvement," Harry said encouragingly. "After all, Professor Dumbledore knew everything from the start."
"Tom?" Lupin looked puzzled. "I thought your first-year professor was Quirrell…"
"Tom is Voldemort," Harry explained. "Quirrell was possessed by him at the time."
"And last year was much the same."
"Tom turned Hogwarts into a complete mess."
Lupin leaned back, stunned. None of this had been mentioned by Dumbledore.
Compared to Voldemort, his own situation hardly seemed like a problem at all.
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Powerstones?
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