Lupin had, of course, already resigned.
Though strictly speaking, he had never really started working—this was the 1990s, after all, and he was a werewolf. Toby Drake's identity itself was that of an outright old capitalist, the kind you'd hang at the highest point on a lamppost, so a labor contract?
What's that nonsense?
Even though William had suggested that Mundungus improve the treatment of his subordinates, this man, who had spent most of his life mixing in the lower wizarding circles, never thought about signing a contract with his werewolf subordinates. Besides, they were just werewolves—aside from a few who became cynical due to childhood mistreatment, most werewolves could only be considered ordinary sick people—
Even the treatment offered by Toby Drake himself was acceptable to them, not to mention now that it was a more considerate version.
They didn't howl and pledge loyalty to the death simply because that wasn't trendy at the end of the 20th century—
"Of course, Lupin, it's just..."
Mundungus shook his head vaguely and turned to look at William. William had only mentioned "catching" Lupin back; he hadn't said what had specifically happened—so he instinctively thought the werewolf had offended William somewhere, otherwise, there was no need for tricks when bringing him back.
Although he used to get along fairly well with him, but...
In the world of the living, one is often helpless...
Forgive me, Lupin-san!
William, who was called out, didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stood up and walked out from behind the huge desk, standing in front of the graying-haired man. He reached out his hand to lift the man's head, which had instinctively hung down—
"..."
Staring into the boy's blue-illuminated pupils, Lupin instinctively tried to break free, but the ensuing feeling of confinement made it impossible for him to move an inch.
Indeed, Lupin exhaled with a bit of resignation—he still clearly remembered that the boy in front of him had once, in a face-to-face encounter, "defeated" an almost adult, raging fire dragon. Such an achievement could land him on the front page of the Prophet Daily for a full week if he wanted—
This person was definitely not as harmless as he looked.
Never mind that he couldn't move for some reason now, even if he could, he wasn't confident of going head-to-head with a "Dragon Slayer"—
"Tsk."
After turning the man over in his hands and inspecting him for ages, William finally couldn't help but frown, "Well damn, he doesn't have three eyes or five legs either... What the hell did Dumbledore see in you?"
"...Dumbledore?"
Hearing this name in such circumstances, Lupin's mind went blank for a moment, and he instinctively repeated it.
"Yes, Albus Dumbledore—be honest, you didn't open a backdoor to get that Defense Against the Dark Arts Class professor position, did you?"
William put the man's head down and began his malicious conjectures.
"?"
"Just kidding—"
You sure don't look like you're kidding—
Lupin wanted to speak but didn't know what to say, as he had no idea about the relationship between William and Dumbledore. After all, old Dumbledore wasn't a priest, and he didn't even know anything about William's identity, nor did he fully grasp the situation—
What does this have to do with Hogwarts? Or with the Defense Against the Dark Arts Class?
Could it be... that rumored Dark Lord's curse is real?
So, Dumbledore actually means him harm?
"So, you left the crew to join Hogwarts in two months."
William sat back, his soft boss chair autonomously gliding over to support him.
"...Yes."
Lupin shook off his wild thoughts and instinctively nodded.
This summer, and for nearly the next year, the Starry Sky Circus had a tight schedule—a European tour, starting in Paris, followed by Berlin, Vienna, Rome, Barcelona... finally blitzing through Poland and Moscow. There was no chance of returning within two months.
And tomorrow was the day they set sail. If Lupin still wanted to join Hogwarts, he naturally did not intend, nor could he, board the ship.
"Very well, name your price for leaving him?"
"Leaving who?"
"...Never mind." William glanced at a thoroughly confused Lupin and felt it uninteresting, "Dumbledore intends for you to be my little white... no, to cooperate well with my work. Reasonably speaking, his letter should've already... wait a minute..."
William paused slightly, furrowing his brows—say, does Dumbledore normally use owls?
Hmm, doesn't he usually use a phoenix to deliver messages?
William looked back at the sycamore climbing frame not far away, where a yellow and a red bird were huddled together, napping.
"..."
Why did he stop talking?
Lupin looked towards where William was staring and saw a... Thunderbird? Its size was so small, a new breed? The other was... a phoenix?
Fawkes?
The man recognized that red bird, given that Fawkes had delivered a letter from Dumbledore only three months ago.
Does this mean...
"Bang—"
Before the man could ask, a violent thud came from the entrance. The next moment, the door swung open, and a dark gray blur flew in, dazed and confused. It flapped around the room, before finally dropping the envelope it held in its beak into Lupin's hand.
"Oh, it's probably here—"
William nodded, picking up the dazed owl slumped on the table, handing it over to Mundungus, who was waiting nearby, asking him to find something to feed it.
Under William's gaze, Lupin reluctantly opened the crumpled envelope. Smoothing out the yellow parchment, he frowned as he began to read—"Uh, if you're William Richard..." the man looked up at William.
"That's me, so what did Dumbledore say?" William nodded.
"Oh, uh... the Professor says to return his phoenix—" Lupin focused on the end of the letter.
"He can come get it himself if he wants, I coaxed it over fair and square..."
William didn't hesitate to shake his head, as if Dumbledore wanted something for nothing... "Knock knock—" A firm rap on the closed door sounded from outside.
"..."
"I said not to disturb us—"
Busy finding biscuits for the owl, Mundungus muttered in confusion, having instructed everyone to steer clear of this cabin knowing William would be having a talk, so theoretically, no one should be knocking at such a time—
"Tsk."
William felt he'd already guessed the plot's development. The next moment, the door was pushed open, and a white-bearded old man in a gray robe stepped inside.