The night in the Shrieking Shack marked a turning point, not just for Remus Lupin, but for the entire wizarding world. The success of the Sunstone bracelet was not a fluke. The following month, under the same controlled conditions, the test was repeated with the same result: a peaceful, transformation-free full moon.
The data was conclusive. The theory was proven. It was time to publish.
Once again, Ariana, Hermione, and Daphne collaborated on a formal research paper. This one was titled: "A Proposed Method for the Continuous Magical Suppression of the Lycanthropy Virus via a Self-Sustaining Solar-Energy Dispersal Artifact."
It was even more groundbreaking than their first. It not only detailed the "magical virus" theory of lycanthropy but also provided the complete alchemical and runic specifications for the creation of the Sunstone bracelets. The designs for the device, and the specific runic array that made it selfsustaining, were patented under their three names, a move Dumbledore insisted upon to ensure they retained control and credit for their monumental discovery.
The paper was sent to the "International Journal of Magical Healing and Restorative Arts." It was fast-tracked for peer review by the most respected Healers and Potions Masters in Europe, including the board at St. Mungo's. The initial reaction was one of stunned disbelief, which quickly gave way to frantic, excited replication studies.
Within weeks, the results were verified. The "Dumbledore-Granger-Greengrass Method," as it came to be known, worked. It was not a cure, but it was the next best thing: a permanent, manageable, and painless treatment that effectively gave werewolves their lives back. It freed them from the monthly agony and the monstrous loss of self. They could now live normal lives, hold jobs, and exist in society without being a danger to themselves or others.
The impact was seismic.
The Ministry of Magic, under immense pressure from progressive factions and families with afflicted relatives, was forced to re-evaluate the entire legal classification of werewolves. The Werewolf Registry, once a list of dangerous dark creatures, began to be spoken of as a medical database. The Wolfsbane Potion, once a prohibitively expensive and difficult-to-brew lifeline, was now seen as an obsolete, almost barbaric, temporary measure.
The three girls became international celebrities in the academic and medical communities.
Portraits of them appeared on the covers of scholarly journals. They received owls from Healers in Egypt, alchemists in Germany, and curse-breakers in Peru, all begging for more information, offering congratulations, and hailing them as the most brilliant minds of their generation.
At Hogwarts, their status ascended from respected prodigies to something approaching royalty. They were no longer just 'the smart girls'; they were pioneers, innovators who had solved a problem that had plagued the wizarding world for millennia. Students would fall silent when they entered a room, not out of fear, but out of sheer, unadulterated awe.
This newfound fame had a profound effect on each of them.
Hermione, who had once craved academic validation above all else, found herself inundated with it. Her name was now permanently linked with a world-changing medical breakthrough. The achievement was so monumental that her own internal anxieties about grades and class rankings seemed to melt away. She had already achieved more than most full-grown wizards could ever dream of. This realization brought her a new level of calm, confident maturity.
Daphne's family, the Greengrasses, saw their social and political standing skyrocket. They became the faces of progressive pure-blood thought, champions of magical science and healing. Daphne herself was no longer just the pretty, aloof Slytherin; she was a respected researcher, a co-patent holder of a revolutionary magical device. She walked the halls with a new, quiet authority, her alliance with Ariana and Hermione having elevated her far beyond the petty squabbles of her housemates.
And Ariana… Ariana accepted the accolades with her usual serene grace. The fame, the awards, the letters—they were all just data points, logical outcomes of a successfully executed project. Her true satisfaction came not from the public recognition, but from the quiet knowledge that she had made a tangible, positive difference. She had eased suffering. She had solved an impossible problem.
One afternoon, she received a letter delivered by a beautiful barn owl. It contained no sender's name, but the handwriting was familiar.
Ariana, it read.
There are no words to properly express what you have done. You have given me back my life. Not the life of a monster, not the life of a man hiding from the moon, but my own life. You have given me peace. It is a gift I never thought I would receive.
Sirius and I have begun funding a new initiative, using some of the old Black family gold, to manufacture and distribute the bracelets to registered werewolves who cannot afford them. Your work will not just be theory; it will be a reality for everyone.
Thank you is not enough. But it is all I have.
Your friend,
Remus Lupin
Ariana folded the letter, a rare, genuine smile touching her lips. This was the true measure of her success. Not the patents or the fame, but the quiet, profound impact on a single, good man's life.
The first task of the Triwizard Tournament was fast approaching. The dragons were waiting. But as Ariana sat in the quiet of the library, with Hermione and Daphne beside her, she felt a sense of profound calm. The challenges ahead were significant, but they had already proven that nothing was truly impossible. They had cured the incurable. They had contained sunlight. They were not just reacting to the world anymore. They were actively, brilliantly, and logically reshaping it.