018 Lupin’s Work

The sweltering heat of July had settled over the city. Remus Lupin had been working at Adrian's greenhouse for nearly two full weeks now. The position, which he had reluctantly accepted primarily because of Harry's presence, had proven to be considerably more challenging than he had initially anticipated. Taking proper care of magical plants, he had quickly discovered, was an extraordinarily meticulous task that required a level of precision and patience. Each species needed specific handling techniques, particular nutrient combinations, and carefully calibrated amounts of water and light. A single error in judgment could result in consequences ranging from wilting leaves to explosive reactions—as he had learned the hard way during his first few days. Moreover, contrary to what Lupin had initially assumed would make the job easier, magic couldn't be used in most of the caretaking process. This restriction had been one of the most difficult adjustments for him, as he had grown accustomed to using simple charms for everyday tasks. The invisible magical energy emanating from his wand would adversely affect the delicate magical balance within the plants, disrupting their natural properties. Some of the more sensitive medicinal herbs would even permanently lose their healing potency after coming into contact with external magical forces, essentially making them worthless for potion-making. This reality made Lupin's work significantly more complex and mentally taxing than caring for non-magical plants, requiring him to rely mostly on manual techniques. Additionally, many of Adrian's plants were aggressive in nature. The Venomous Tentacula in the far corner had already made several attempts to wrap its vines around Lupin's throat when he approached too closely while watering neighboring plants. Despite having Adrian's meticulously detailed instruction manual, Lupin was continuously anxious about being unexpectedly attacked by some peculiar plant. As a result of this constant vigilance and the overwhelming amount of specialized knowledge required, Lupin's work was often based on a cautious hesitancy that sometimes bordered on carelessness born of uncertainty. Fortunately, whenever he encountered perplexing questions about the plants or their proper maintenance, Adrian always provided comprehensive answers. And also, much to Lupin's surprise and occasional embarrassment... "Mr. Lupin, don't forget the Bubble-Head Charm," "Mr. Lupin, don't touch it with your palm, Use the back of your hand instead" "Mr. Lupin, that's fertilizer number one, you should be using number three." "Mr. Lupin..." During his free time, Harry would regularly come to help Lupin with his work. And the corrections and suggestions came with such frequency that Lupin had begun to wonder who was actually employed to whom in this unusual arrangement. In fact, Harry was obviously far more skilled at tending to the plants than Lupin was which made Lupin feel somewhat ashamed, considering he was the one being paid a professional wage for this work. As for why Harry possessed such knowledge of magical horticulture, it was obviously thanks to Adrian frequently having the boy assist him throughout the previous months. Over the past half year, through patient instruction and hands-on practice, Harry had apparently learned the distinctive characteristics and care methods of almost all the plants in Adrian's greenhouse. If it weren't for Adrian's insistence on giving Harry dedicated time to study his supposedly "favorite" subject, Potions, Adrian would likely have Harry assisting him with the greenhouse tasks full-time. With both Lupin and Harry's combined assistance managing the daily maintenance of the Plantation, Adrian no longer needed to constantly monitor the plants in the greenhouse as he had done before Lupin's arrival. This newborn freedom allowed him to redirect his attention to other pressing responsibilities. During the daylight hours, he had recently set up a desk and comfortable leather chair in a sunny corner of the potted plant shop. This makeshift office space was typically covered with open books, scattered parchment, and detailed diagrams that was clearly related to his newly appointed professional work—meticulous lesson preparation for the upcoming academic year. After all, his main occupation had now officially become the Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Just yesterday, Professor Kettleburn had sent him a lengthy letter written in shaky handwriting and a copy of "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them". In the letter, Kettleburn had thoughtfully and thoroughly introduced his previous course arrangements. Fire salamanders, crup, thestrals, unicorns... In short, the curriculum focused on a progressive introduction to all common magical creatures that weren't particularly dangerous—or at least, weren't dangerous when properly handled with appropriate precautions. The margin notes in the textbook indicated which creatures had been most successful in classroom demonstrations and which had resulted in what Kettleburn indirectly referred to as "educational incidents." Generally, the Care of Magical Creatures course at Hogwarts was structured as an elective offered for three consecutive years, from third year through fifth year. As for why there were no sixth- and seventh-year classes regularly scheduled in the curriculum, the explanation was mostly practical: most students tactically chose to discontinue the course after completing their O.W.L. exams and obtaining their certificates. The subject, while fascinating, was considered by many to have limited professional applications outside specific fields like dragon research or the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry. Perhaps only students who truly had genuine passion for magical creatures—or those planning careers directly involving them—would elect to continue studying this subject at the advanced N.E.W.T. level during their sixth and seventh years. According to Kettleburn's records, this typically resulted to only three or four dedicated students per year, hardly enough to justify a regular class schedule. At the conclusion of the detailed letter, Professor Kettleburn had left Adrian with a message, underlined times for emphasis: "You can absolutely choose your own approach; you certainly don't have to follow mine, But remember, don't ever let students come into direct contact with overly dangerous creatures without proper safety measures—that's why I've been placed on official probation sixty-two separate times during my tenure." After reading this, Adrian nodded thoughtfully to himself. The advice was reasonable. It would be counterproductive and potentially catastrophic to allow inexperienced students to sustain injuries just for the sake of exposing them to a wider variety of magical creatures. Education should never come at the cost of student safety. But sixty-two formal probations over the course of a teaching career... Adrian couldn't understand how Professor Kettleburn had somehow managed to hold on until voluntary retirement from Hogwarts rather than being instantly dismissed after perhaps the twentieth incident involving student injuries. The man must have possessed either extraordinary teaching skills that outweighed his safety record, or some implicating information about the school governors. Adrian thought. As for the specific teaching materials he would use in his classes, Adrian had ultimately decided to continue using "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" as the main textbook. After careful consideration of alternatives, he determined that there was a legitimate reason it had remained Hogwarts' standard textbook for so many decades. Newt Scamander had compiled information on almost all known magical creatures in the wizarding world in this book. It could rightfully be considered an encyclopedia of magical creatures. While Adrian was deeply absorbed in finalizing his lesson plans for the third-year introductory classes, his concentration was suddenly interrupted by the creaking sound of the greenhouse door opening. Lupin and Harry simultaneously emerged from the greenhouse, though their appearances and demeanors couldn't have been more different. Harry looked slightly flushed from the greenhouse heat but otherwise energetic, while Lupin appeared to be in genuinely concerning condition. Lupin looked considerably more exhausted than he had on any previous day, his normally pale complexion was now ashen gray with an unhealthy shine. His forehead was damp with sweat despite the cooling charms in the greenhouse, and dark circles shadowed his bloodshot eyes. The man looked as if a full day's work had left him completely drained of both energy and vitality—appearing closer to a reanimated inferi than a living wizard. His condition was concerning enough that Adrian immediately set aside his quill and straightened in his chair. Seeing Lupin's alarming physical state, Adrian couldn't help feeling genuinely puzzled and concerned. The normal workload in the greenhouse, while considerable, certainly shouldn't be so demanding as to reduce a grown wizard to this state of near collapse. Moreover, in the past few days, Lupin hadn't showed such dramatic fatigue after completing his duties. If anything, he had seemed to be growing more comfortable and confident with the daily routines, requiring less guidance and making fewer mistakes. This sudden and severe deterioration suggested something beyond mere physical exhaustion from greenhouse work. The visibly pale-faced Lupin slowly walked to Adrian's side. "Mr. Adrian, I've completed all of today's work. Could I leave early today?" He paused momentarily, hesitated for a moment while avoiding direct eye contact, then reluctantly added: "I have some rather urgent personal matters to attend to." It was blatantly obvious from his reluctant tone and evasive body language that he was fully aware his condition wasn't normal. Adrian looked at him with growing concern, slightly furrowing his brow as he conducted a more thorough visual assessment of Lupin's condition. The man was clearly unwell—possibly seriously so—and in no condition to continue working. "You certainly don't look well at all, Remus," Adrian stated frankly as he stood up from his chair to better examine him. "Do you perhaps need to take tomorrow off as well to properly recover?" Lupin gently shook his head in immediate refusal. He tried his best to force what was clearly intended to be a reassuring smile. "It's nothing serious to be concerned about, Adrian," He insisted unconvincingly. "I'm just experiencing a bit of temporary fatigue. I'll be perfectly fine after some proper rest and recuperation. Perhaps it's simply because the weather is extremely hot today; I'm feeling somewhat unwell due to the heat." The explanation was plausible but clearly not the complete truth. Although Adrian was genuinely concerned about Lupin's health and wellbeing, since the man persistently insisted nothing was seriously wrong, he decided he wouldn't force him to take additional time off or press him for explanations he was clearly unwilling to provide. Privacy was important, and Lupin was an adult capable of making his own health decisions. So, Adrian nodded in reluctant acceptance: "All right, if you're certain. If you need additional rest, please don't hesitate to inform me. If there's anything I can do to assist you during this time, remember to let me know immediately." As he spoke these words of concern, Adrian opened a drawer in his desk and carefully selected a small crystal vial containing a shimmering blue-silver potion from among several organized rows of similar containers. He handed the delicate vial to Lupin: "Drink this. It will make you feel better." Lupin gratefully nodded, accepted Adrian's potion and drank it in one gulp, feeling somewhat guilty. he thought bitterly to himself as the potion's warmth spread through his aching body. After Lupin had gathered his cloak and left through the shop's front door with a grateful nod, Harry remained standing nearby, watching Lupin's slowly leaving figure through the front window in concern. Although Lupin had tried to conceal his condition, his physical state throughout the day had already worried Harry. "Is Mr. Lupin going to be all right?" Harry turned to Adrian with concern in his voice. "He's been unusually low on energy throughout the entire day, and he nearly stepped directly onto an explosive potato without noticing it—" Adrian watched Lupin's distant figure through the window, then glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall. After noting the current lunar phase, he checked the time on his pocket watch. With these observations, he had a fairly accurate understanding of why Lupin was in such a deteriorated physical state today. Yesterday had been the full moon—obviously visible in both the night sky and marked on his lunar calendar. Which meant, obviously, that last night Lupin had undergone his monthly transformation into a werewolf. For a day or sometimes several days following such a transformation, Lupin would inevitably experience a severely weakened physical state as his body struggled to recover. "Don't worry yourself too much about Mr. Lupin's condition," Adrian said reassuringly as he gently ruffled Harry's messy black hair, making the already unruly strands stand up even more chaotically in all directions. Sёarch* The nôᴠel Fire.nёt website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. "You should perhaps be more concerned about completing the Potions homework I assigned you yesterday," Adrian skillfully changed the subject, redirecting Harry's attention. "How is your Blood-Replenishing Potion progressing?" Upon hearing Adrian mention Potions yet again, Harry's expression immediately soured. Harry thought indignantly to himself, not for the first time. While Harry internally fussed about this, Adrian was already mentally considering whether to give Lupin scheduled time off during future full moons. Having Lupin work in such a condition seemed somewhat inhumane.