He was extremely cautious.
After transforming into a werewolf, his strength greatly increased. He was terrified of accidentally crushing the glass vial.
Even worse, his claws couldn't unscrew the stopper.
Tonks, wand still in hand, was rapidly weakening. Though her resolve was only growing stronger, lycanthropy was beginning to take its toll. The parts of her that belonged to a witch were fading—her wolf traits growing stronger.
"You could try stabbing the cork with a claw," she rasped.
Lupin blinked, enlightened. He raised a claw and jabbed it into the cork.
With a pop, the cork came free.
Tonks's hands were already paws, unable to grasp a wand. Her ears had elongated, and her eyes were now unmistakably lupine. Her facial bones stretched, her mouth widened as her transformation accelerated.
In a rough, struggling voice, she asked, "You still haven't answered… will you…"
"I will, I will!" Lupin cried out, frantic. "Now hush—drink the potion!"
Tears spilled from his eyes.
He was wracked with regret. If only he hadn't run from his feelings—if he'd agreed earlier… or even rejected her outright… maybe none of this would've happened.
Drip.
A few tears landed in the potion—right as he poured it into her mouth.
A strange light bloomed from her.
A dark, blurry shadow emerged from Tonks's body with the same "pop" as the cork. It was a black wolf—with Tonks's face.
Bathed in moonlight, it gave a hiss and disintegrated.
And then—magic.
Tonks's fur receded. Her muzzle collapsed back into her human face. Her ears shrank away. It was as if she'd never begun transforming at all.
Lupin stared at her, stunned.
"I… don't think I turned into a werewolf," Tonks murmured, picking up her wand and giving it a light flick.
A shield spell shot out, repelling the werewolves lunging toward the now-defenseless Lupin.
"I feel fine," Tonks added, glancing at her hands. "I don't feel like I just fought for half an hour."
"Are you sure?" Lupin pushed away another werewolf, looking at her with concern.
Tonks nodded, rising from the ground. "I feel great."
She cast another spell—strong, precise, potent.
Together, they fought again.
The werewolves—already exhausted—were less frenzied than before. But driven by beastly instincts, they attacked relentlessly.
Ten minutes later…
An engine roared overhead. Harry, riding Sirius's enchanted motorcycle, arrived—with Professor Flitwick behind him.
Before the bike even landed, Harry leapt off, flicking his wand. His cloak ballooned, softening his descent. He slammed his wand downward—stone pillars erupted from the ground, forming cages around the attacking werewolves.
They raged, slamming the stone.
But with a shimmer, stone turned to iron.
Flitwick cried out from the air, "Harry, I don't know how to fly this thing!"
"Relax, Filius—it's me flying," muttered the Sorting Hat, guiding them gently to the ground.
Harry landed and rushed to Lupin and Tonks. "Are you alright?"
"We're fine," Lupin answered, still dazed.
Harry glanced around. The battlefield was littered with werewolf corpses.
Lupin and Tonks hadn't killed any—nor had they time to deliver finishing blows.
The dead had all been slain by their own.
"A potion that amplifies animal aggression," Harry said after sniffing through the blood-soaked air. "That's why they went berserk."
"We didn't see any Death Eaters," Tonks said. "Only werewolves."
Lupin sighed. "It's my fault. I didn't realize the potion would shorten the time before my transformation. I should've left right after helping that man…"
Harry shook his head. "No one died, that's what matters."
"Professor Flitwick, could you lift the spell?"
Flitwick climbed off the bike, wiped his brow, and raised his wand.
The powerful anti-apparition barrier that had stumped Tonks shattered instantly. The suffocating air lifted; a breeze blew in, washing away the worst of the blood stench.
"Harry, I have something to tell you," Lupin finally said, carefully choosing his words.
Harry turned to him.
"Tonks was bitten by a werewolf," Lupin said simply.
Harry and Flitwick looked at her in shock—even the Sorting Hat clicked on its high beams, illuminating her. She swatted it, and it dimmed with a grumble.
Bitten?
But she wasn't a werewolf.
"I gave her your potion right after it happened," Lupin continued. "I thought it would help her stay sane. But… somehow, she reverted to normal."
He described everything—the black wolf with her face, the way it disintegrated in the moonlight.
Harry was quiet.
"Could it be she was just newly infected, so the potion worked?" Lupin asked carefully.
Harry shook his head. "No. The potion only suppresses symptoms—it doesn't cure."
"We tested this. Even newly-infected werewolves can't be cured by it."
"Did anything else happen when you gave her the potion?"
Snape hadn't stooped to ordering werewolves to attack innocents—not yet. But accidental bites happened every month. Pomfrey worked with St. Mungo's to ask every new patient if they wanted to try "Mr. Potter's experimental potion."
Many said yes.
None were cured.
Lupin shook his head. "Nothing, I think…"
"He cried," Tonks said softly.
Lupin blinked.
"That matters?" he asked, confused.
"There are Hermione's tears in the potion, right?" Tonks said seriously. "And Lupin's tears fell into it right when he said he loved me."
She emphasized the final words.
"Congrats, Aunt Tonks!" Harry clapped.
"Remus's tears, huh?"
"Harry, that's all you have to say?!" Tonks put her hands on her hips, fuming.
Harry nodded. "I always thought you two would end up together."
Lupin looked down at his claws.
He was overwhelmed.
Of course. Harry always knew. Sirius must have, too.
Someone who stayed beside him through his worst—when he was at his most broken, most hideous, most hopeless…
Harry's words soothed Tonks. She hummed contentedly.
"So it's been… virgin tears all along?" Harry mused.
"Harry!" Lupin barked, scandalized.
Flitwick stifled a laugh.
"Kidding." Harry waved it off. "I think it was a tear of true love."
Tonks and Lupin froze.
They looked at each other, faces reddening.
"Lycanthropy," Harry said softly, "is really a curse of denial."
"The world rejects them—calls them monsters."
"Family rejection. Friends rejecting them."
"And every full moon reminds them of what they've become. They start rejecting themselves—seeing themselves as dangerous outcasts."
"They live in this world, yet outside of it."
"They ask: Am I still even human?"
Lupin looked away.
Tonks held his claw.
"Some try to comfort werewolves by saying: look, at least you still have friends, or family," Harry continued in a detached tone.
"Others—like me—try to help them become 'normal' again."
"But that only reinforces it—that they aren't normal."
"In truth, the cure to lycanthropy is one sentence: 'No matter what you become—ugly or beautiful—I will still stay by your side.'"
Professor Flitwick sighed, lowering his head.
The Sorting Hat tilted its handlebars, deeply puzzled, trying to understand this human emotion.
Harry smiled faintly.
He should've realized this sooner. Sentimental magic needed sentimental solutions.
"A tear born of true love," he said softly. "No wonder our potions couldn't cure lycanthropy."
Lupin looked up. "No, Harry—you've been doing it right. I know that."
"I'm not blaming myself." Harry interrupted cheerfully. "But let me test my theory—Aunt Tonks?"
Tonks raised an eyebrow. "You want me to cry now?"
Harry nodded. "Cry for Uncle Remus."
Tonks took a deep breath. "Alright."
She stood very still for a moment…
Then burst out laughing. "Nope. Can't do it. I'm too happy!"
Her whole heart was brimming with joy.
Harry raised his wand and cast a spell.
Tonks fell into an illusion.
Soon, she gripped Lupin's claw tightly, crying out in fear. Tears streamed from her eyes.
Wingardium Leviosa.
Before a single tear could fall past her cheek, Harry caught them, floating them into a small vial.
The spell ended.
Tonks gasped for air. "Harry! Is this how you treat your aunt?! No warning at all?!"
"You couldn't cry, so I had to help." Harry uncorked a potion and added the tears.
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Powerstones?
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