Pegasus remained silent for a moment, letting the previous topic fade.
"Let's discuss the main issue." She said, looking at Dumbledore, "I suspect someone is creating a potion that affects werewolf transformation, and the one we encountered today was deliberately planted at St. Mungo's.
I don't know their motive — whether they're testing the potion's effects or trying to cause panic. Regardless, this act is a desecration of St. Mungo's, and I will find the person responsible."
"Do you need any help?" Dumbledore said, "I happen to know a werewolf friend."
"Thank you for the offer, but that won't be necessary. I have connections with a werewolf pack." Pegasus said thoughtfully, "They will be sufficient."
Her eyes turned cold — whoever dared to pull such a stunt at St. Mungo's had crossed her bottom line.
Fortunately, nothing serious had happened today; otherwise, St. Mungo's reputation would have been severely damaged. She needed to show others that Potion Masters have their limits.
Neither of them mentioned the Ministry of Magic during their conversation.
After being declined, Dumbledore fell silent. A werewolf pack... well, one more or less wouldn't make much difference.
"There's one last matter to address, regarding compensation."
Kyle unconsciously leaned forward in his seat — he had been waiting for this.
"I'm very sorry that our mistake put you in such a dangerous situation. St. Mungo's will take full responsibility." Pegasus said after a moment's thought, "One thousand Galleons as compensation, hoping you can forgive our oversight. Additionally, for stopping the werewolf and protecting St. Mungo's reputation, we will reward you with another two thousand Galleons."
Three thousand Galleons in total?
Kyle raised an eyebrow — truthfully, it was less than he had expected.
Those few seconds facing the werewolf had been even more dangerous than his encounter with Oren in the Forbidden Forest. From drawing his wand to casting the first Softening Charm took barely a second, and the slightest mistake would have resulted in a bite.
For such a life-threatening situation, three thousand Galleons seemed modest.
However, considering their connection to Dumbledore, plus the fact that they had spoken up for him earlier... three thousand would suffice. He had to show respect to the old man.
Besides, Kyle wasn't shameless. With them putting it this way, he couldn't bring himself to ask for the remaining nine hundred and ninety-seven thousand Galleons.
He nodded, just about to agree, when Pegasus continued, "Also, the Order of Merlin!"
"What..." Kyle was momentarily stunned, thinking he had misheard.
"The Order of Merlin." She repeated, smiling, "I will personally nominate you, though I can't guarantee whether it will be Second or Third Class."
This was her real compensation — or rather, her gratitude.
In her view, compared to St. Mungo's reputation, the patients' lives were far more important. On the second floor, there were about fifty bedridden patients who would have been completely defenseless if a werewolf had burst into their rooms.
Kyle had indirectly saved fifty wizards' lives — such an act certainly deserved an Order of Merlin.
It's just his age... Pegasus frowned. This boy was too young, not even twelve. If he were older, even just of age, getting a Second Class award would certainly not be an issue.
But now she could only try her best to advocate for him.
Pegasus looked at him and asked, "Well, are you satisfied?"
"Of course, I'm very satisfied." Kyle smiled, "However... could I exchange the Galleons for something else?"
"Oh, what would you like instead?"
"Potions of equal value." Kyle said without hesitation, "If possible, I'd like them to be made by you, any kind would do."
This answer surprised Pegasus, and she asked instinctively, "Why do you want to exchange them for potions?"
"Because I love Potions class." Kyle replied earnestly, "Having a master's work nearby would help me understand my own shortcomings."
"Pfft..."
Beside them, Dumbledore, who was drinking red tea, suddenly choked and nearly dropped his cup.
He wiped his wet beard, "Sorry, the tea was a bit hot."
Kyle continued, maintaining his composure as if he hadn't noticed, "Plus, I have a small ulterior motive — a Potion Master's work is worth far more than the equivalent in Galleons."
"...Alright." Pegasus agreed readily, "I will make all the potions required for the seven years of study in sequence. Though I'm not certain of their value — it might be much less than three thousand Galleons — are you sure?"
"Absolutely sure." Kyle nodded vigorously.
He had only thought of exchanging the Galleons for potions in the moment. After all, he wasn't short of Galleons, and an extra three thousand would merely gather dust in Gringotts.
Better to exchange them for something more valuable.
From Dumbledore's earlier hints, the Director's potion-making skills surpassed even Slughorn's. This was a rare opportunity — the work of such a Potion Master might never come his way again.
After concluding their discussion, they left the tea room's private section.
Ministry officials were still downstairs, and since they had come to help, Pegasus, as St. Mungo's Head Healer, couldn't continue to ignore them.
Moreover, two people had been injured in the original werewolf ward on the second floor. Though they had fortunately avoided being bitten, she still needed to check on them.
When they reached the fifth floor via the stairs, Kyle spotted the round-faced boy again. He still stood at the corner of the stairs holding his lunch box, but this time someone who appeared to be his grandmother stood behind him.
She wore a long dress, carried a red handbag, and topped her outfit with a hat adorned with a stuffed vulture. A round-faced boy at St. Mungo's, plus an elderly lady wearing a vulture hat... Kyle had a good idea who they were.
"Speak up, Neville!" Madam Augusta Longbottom urged, pushing the boy forward.
The boy awkwardly set his lunch box aside and approached Kyle nervously, "Th-thank you for saving me... I was too scared earlier. I'm sorry."
"It's alright, I understand." Kyle said gently, "What's your name?"
"Neville, Neville Longbottom."
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