The castle corridors.
Lucien kept the finished vial of improved Wolfsbane Potion in his pocket as he walked at an easy pace toward the headmaster's office. More than a month had passed, and Dumbledore had finally returned to his loyal Hogwarts.
Lucien had noticed something during the old man's absence. Under Professor McGonagall's steady hand, the school had run just as smoothly as ever. Thanks to her, Dumbledore could disappear for weeks without everything falling apart.
As he walked, Lucien couldn't help thinking that if Dumbledore stayed away much longer, Hogwarts might not stay quite so "loyal."
With the end of term came the annual exam month, and the atmosphere in the castle had shifted. Students moved through the corridors with dark circles under their eyes, some deep, some lighter. A few walked while reading, nearly crashing into walls. Others muttered potion recipes under their breath. More than a few clutched brown vials in one hand while flipping through notes with the other.
Lucien recognized those vials. They were his Ox and Horse Potion—the wakefulness brew that had become a bestseller during exam season.
In the original timeline, exams had been canceled because of the Chamber of Secrets. But someone had dealt with the Basilisk a little early, so the tests were happening after all. And with McGonagall running things, there was zero chance of them being called off.
Honestly, Hogwarts only held exams once a year. That was part of why student performance kept sliding. Cramming at the last minute, then forgetting everything the second the test ended. Midterms would have helped, but no one seemed interested in that kind of structure.
Lucien wasn't worried about his own revision. Once he finished improving the curse-related potions, he could review everything in a couple of focused days. Besides, the system was getting ready to update and go dormant. No new loans had triggered lately anyway.
He had approached the Wolfsbane Potion from two angles.
First, the effect. The original version let werewolves keep their minds on full-moon nights, but left them extremely weak afterward. Recovery took a full week. By refining the way moonstone dew was processed and adjusting the ingredient ratios, Lucien had cut the weakness period down to two or three days. That meant werewolves suffered four or five fewer days of misery each month and could return to normal life faster.
Second, the brewing process. The original recipe was complicated, demanded extreme precision, and used expensive ingredients most werewolves couldn't afford. Lucien simplified the steps, swapped out some rare materials for cheaper, more common ones, and actually made the final potion stronger. Wider availability mattered. Werewolves were already pushed to the edges of wizarding society. Even when the infection wasn't their fault, most lived hard, low-income lives. Many couldn't afford steady doses of Wolfsbane and had to lock themselves away every full moon, riding out the pain and madness alone.
While working on the improvements, Lucien had also gained a clearer picture of how the werewolf curse actually worked. That led to a new idea.
Maybe he could try curing a werewolf after all.
Not one who had been bitten and turned later in life. Those carried only a partial version of the curse. He needed someone born with it—someone whose bloodline had carried the full curse from the start. True natural werewolves were extremely rare. Most stayed far from wizarding society, living like wild magical creatures. He would have to ask around.