In the pitch-black night sky, the wind and snow stopped unknowingly.
A parade waving sparkling lights passed by the dark street corner. The Christmas atmosphere grew stronger in the city, but it seemed to have nothing to do with the small tent in the "remote" place.
The man still sat behind the small desk at the ticket booth, quietly staring at the envelope in his hand, somewhat lost in thought.
"...Shift change, Lupin."
Someone lifted the flap of the tent behind him and crawled out, putting a cigarette in their mouth and said to the man sitting at the ticket booth.
"...Alright."
Lupin nodded, put the envelope into his jacket, got up, and gave up his seat.
"Wait," the man reached out and pressed Lupin's shoulder. He lit a cigarette and looked at Lupin's deep green eyes through the smoke, "Who were you in contact with just now?" His gaze moved to where Lupin had tucked the envelope.
"What, oh, just a... friend." Lupin seemed to be contemplating something, only snapped back when asked, "Yes, Jim, just a friend." He repeated as if confirming.
"Someone like you... has friends?" The man called Jimmy had doubt in his eyes, "And by the way, we're not that close—"
"..." Lupin's gaze was slightly dazed, as if reminiscing, but he quickly returned to his senses, speaking calmly, "Alright, Mr. Dean, if you have any questions, I can explain to you, but please..." He took a step back, "let go of me first."
"Heh—"
Jim sneered, glancing over Lupin. When he saw the patched clothes the other man was wearing, the disdain in his eyes became more evident, and he let go, "No problem, you can scram... you bunch of beasts, cherish your last Christmas."
"What?"
The last half of the man's sentence was so quiet that even standing nearby, Lupin couldn't hear it.
"...Nothing, I told you to scram."
The man sat expressionlessly at the ticket booth, showing no intention of interacting with Lupin further.
Lupin, of course, had no intention of digging deeper; he didn't want to cause trouble, and it didn't matter to him even if he was insulted. His upbringing made him entirely accustomed to such cold stares from others—all werewolves must learn to endure this.
Even in a circus with a werewolf boss, the staff couldn't all be werewolves—it's impossible that during every full moon night, the entire circus system shuts down, and everyone goes home for their transformation. Besides, the attraction here was the werewolf performances on the full moon night.
Therefore, the staff naturally divided into werewolves and regular human wizards, and in such circumstances, werewolf exclusion and discrimination were inevitable. Moreover, the boss Derek had no intention of improving the living conditions for his werewolf subordinates—
Because these werewolves had nowhere else to go.
Not starving, making money, not being beaten or killed... this was a luxury for many werewolves, achievable here.
This had already become Derek's capital.
Lupin silently crawled back into the tent.
Watching the man's departing figure, Jim Dean curled his lip. He checked his watch, and in the next moment, with the sound of a belt snapping through the air, several figures appeared in the open space in front of him—
"You're late by... three minutes and two seconds."
The leader, wearing a black trench coat, also checked his watch, sounding displeased.
"Cough, cough, there was a slight mishap, a little girl got into our backstage—" Jim scratched his neck, his attitude entirely different from when speaking to Lupin, standing up with a fawning expression, "What do you plan to do? Need my cooperation?"
"No need."
The man shook his head, tone stiff. He turned around, addressing the dozen people behind him, "Williamson, take a few people and set up the Anti-Disillusionment Charm; Field, go to the planned spot to intercept; Shackle, take a few people to assist Williamson, come back to find me once you're ready—"
The man swiftly issued orders, finally sweeping his gaze over everyone, "Be sure to note, there's a fire dragon inside the tent—"
"It's a Norwegian Ridgeback," Jim Dean hurriedly added.
"Good, now," the man glanced at Jim without a word, "move... and Tonks, change your head back."
"Oh..."
In the crowd, a woman with bright pink hair silently put on her hood.
"Cough, cough... our boss said..." Seeing the group disperse, Jim finally sidled up to the trench coat man, taking a cloth bag from inside his clothes, sounding even more ingratiating than before, "Tonight, as long as you get rid of that old dog Derek, there's more..."
"Cough, cough, we're just doing business..."
The trench coat man expressionlessly opened his arms, his tone flat—even though his hand accepting the cloth bag was not steady.
Watching the man accept the money bag, the smile in Jim's eyes became more pronounced—the protective umbrella Derek had within the Ministry of Magic had collapsed, and the current person in charge was clearly not satisfied with their previous "cooperation" model with the Ministry.
He wanted humans to run this circus, as for the werewolves?
Keep them captive, after all, the full moon night show must go on...
...
What to do, what to do, what to do!
Astoria crouched on the bronze toilet, sorting out her somewhat abstract feelings.
After finding the Niffler's keeper, she started getting lost—it was unclear what the designer was thinking, designing every corridor to look almost identical, leading the girl to circle around and eventually into the "Hero Fights Evil Dragon" backstage.
Yes, she saw the dragon's tail.
It wasn't until she encountered a staff member that she was pointed towards the exit—but after that, with a sudden stomach ache, she decided to use the restroom first—everything was still fine at this point, until shortly after she entered her stall, she heard men's voices outside.
And she was sure she had entered the women's restroom.
Peeping perverts? Serial killers? Or, or... surely not just a mistake, right?
Due to certain reasons, sickly Astoria rarely went out, and this led her to have a wide range of hobbies. Even though she wouldn't turn eleven until next year, she had watched more than a dozen Muggle horror movies.
Thus, her little head was filled with all kinds of imagined scenes in an instant.
No, she couldn't, she hadn't even gone to Hogwarts, hadn't even had a romance, hadn't even... hadn't even had dinner!
The girl couldn't help but imagine the scene of her being dismembered until the conversation resumed outside, "Are you sure there's no one here?" The girl heard the stall next to her being kicked open.
"Sure, this is the staff washroom—"
The girl instinctively held her breath, pressing her ear to the door, listening carefully.