"HP: Too Late, System!"Chapter 391: Douglas—I've Never Liked Playing by Someone Else's Script!
Douglas shook his head, his eyes turning thoughtful and sharp.
"To orchestrate and execute an operation of this scale, you'd need someone who knows the Vatican inside and out—and who's ruthless enough to ensure not a single loose end remains. Piero's just not up to the task.
This calls for someone... decisive, hard-nosed, maybe even a little unscrupulous—one of the true elites."
Lupin nodded in agreement.
"Isabella—she's young, passionate, full of ideals. At least, judging by how much she cares about the Ashclaw Pack, I can't see her pulling off something like this."
"She might just be a pawn. Maybe not even aware she's been placed on the board at all."
Douglas sighed, his breath curling into a white mist in the chilly air.
"Think about it. Practically the day after my new Wolfsbane Potion was announced, a down-and-out werewolf pack in distant Italy suddenly reaches out to me. Do you really think a regular Auror has those kinds of international connections?"
Lupin's pupils shrank. He ground out the answer through clenched teeth:
"The Department of International Affairs!"
"Spot on."
Douglas gave him an approving look.
"Isabella has a werewolf clan heirloom in her possession—that means her ties to the werewolves are anything but ordinary.
She hears about the new potion, rushes to share the news with the Ashclaw Pack, and then, through her contacts in the Department of International Affairs, helps them reach out to me. Everything seems so natural, so reasonable."
Lupin frowned deeply. "She was the one who first suggested this place. That means she's been here before."
"Exactly." Douglas stopped in his tracks. "That tells us that when she first contacted the Ashclaw Pack and pointed them my way, the pack was still safe—living here, undisturbed. Then, just as we were preparing to leave, or had just set out, the attack happened."
He turned to Lupin, a glint of icy insight in his eyes.
"So, we're led straight here—Miss Rossi's recommended spot. The perfect crime scene.
If she were truly the mastermind, the map she gave us wouldn't be this detailed. I compared it to the one Master Antonio provided—there's barely a difference.
That means someone wanted us to find this place, to step right onto this... meticulously cleaned stage."
There was a subtle edge of mockery in Douglas's voice.
"That person cleverly leaked word of my arrival to the Vatican. So the Sacred Shields showed up—a perfect ambush, a spectacular show."
He spread his hands, as if presenting a shoddy work of art.
"And now, every piece fits: the Ashclaw Pack—silenced by the Vatican. And me, Douglas Holmes—the lone survivor and eyewitness to the massacre."
Lupin's face darkened to thunder. He shot to his feet, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked.
"The Department of International Affairs... Lorenzo Dino! It's him! Only he has the authority—and the motive—to pull this off. That old fox!"
"Heh, quick on the uptake."
Douglas shrugged, looking as relaxed as if they were discussing a badly played game of wizard chess, not a deadly conspiracy.
"Almost the moment news of my potion broke, Isabella made her first move. All of it, calculated.
He was worried I wouldn't go all-in against the Vatican—after all, I was invited under the pretense of helping the werewolves. So he tightened the chain, deepened my conflict with the Vatican, and made sure I couldn't back out."
Douglas shrugged again, casual as ever.
"Don't let that easygoing, peacekeeper act fool you, Remus. Anyone who can sit in that chair and deal face-to-face with the Congregation's old foxes every day... trust me, their hands are anything but clean."
He stopped, ignoring the spotless stone walls, and pulled a magical radar from his pocket. The probe extended automatically.
"Lorenzo Dino... he's not just framing anyone. Framing is child's play."
Douglas's voice echoed through the dead mine, every word sharp as ice.
"He's presenting evidence. He's packaging the Vatican's crimes into a gift-wrapped box—and using me to deliver it to the entire European wizarding world."
Lupin's throat went dry.
He could sense just how tangled the game had become—beneath the board, it was soaked in the blood and tears of countless werewolves.
"He wants to start a war?"
"No. He wants to end one." The tip of Douglas's wand flickered with a faint, silvery light.
"This cold war has dragged on for centuries. Dino is a gambler. He's thrown the Ashclaw Pack, Isabella, and us all onto the table as chips, and shoved them right into the center of the bet."
In that instant, every puzzle piece snapped into place—a cold, complete picture.
Lorenzo Dino—the weary-looking Deputy Director, always buried in paperwork—was, in truth, the sharpest hunter on this land.
"So what do we do now?"
Lupin asked, feeling as if he'd stumbled into a web spun from spider silk and lies—the more he struggled, the tighter it bound him.
"What do we do?"
Douglas suddenly grinned, a flash of exhilaration in his eyes—the thrill of matching wits with a worthy adversary.
"Mr. Dino has built the stage, and the spotlight's right on us..."
He turned toward the mine's depths, where the darkness seemed thick enough to swallow light.
"He wants me to rip the lid off Project Adam. But maybe he's made one miscalculation..."
A sly spark flickered in Douglas's gaze.
"I've never liked acting according to anyone else's script. And let's not forget—I'm not the naive kid fresh out of Hogwarts anymore..."
"We just stick to our original plan, collect a little interest for old times' sake, and let the Ministry clean up their own mess. We've still got our own Voldemort hiding back home, after all."
A pale blue beam shot from the radar's central screen, projecting a three-dimensional map of the mine in midair, each point of light forming the twisting structure.
He spun a gear, switching the radar's mode.
Instantly, most of the map faded to lifeless gray—but one narrow, winding side tunnel glimmered with faint green light, the unmistakable trace of life.
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