Flynn wanted to shout back, to tell Knox that not all werewolves shared his sentiment. That progress in healing and research was not going to be held back because he would be more comfortable if the research was stopped. if the young healer had been concerned about whether or not everybody would be accepting of his work and ambitions, then he wouldn’t have bothered in the first place.

But he was not one to be discouraged, though his stomach sank a bit at the thought that the man he so looked up to didn’t… Respect this work. Knox said he admired his ambition, but that wasn’t the same.

To be fair, the timing was not sensitive-- and Knox had been one of hte victims of the Ides of March tragedy-- a direct consequence of wolfsbane tampering. However, Flynn’s intentions weren’t malevolent--they were far from it. He wasn’t trying to terrorize a people, he was trying to save lives.

He nodded in acknowledgement. Yes, Knox preferred the regular stuff. It was what was safe. But it wasn’t like Flynn was going to stuff the altered stuff down the throat of unsuspecting victims or those who were not educated enough to consent to the consumption of the potion.

“Very well then. I’ll show you what I have.” He replied soberly, getting up from his seat and placing his now-cold tea onto the coffee table, between two rather floral looking potted plants. Flynn disappeared down the hall for a bit, tapping his wand on the door of one of the back rooms.

A few minutes later, he reemerged, a heavy, thick journal under his arm-- a perfect copy of the original, tattered pages, ragged binding and all. Flynn had his hesitations with sharing this-- but he couldn’t turn back now. He was in no way prepared to show Knox the plants and the potion itself.

Knox the blustering old man that he was he was used to his opinion may seem like a man who didn't listen.  But he saw Flynn's sour reaction, his disappointment that Knox hadn't approved, and Knox regretted his outburst.  But if pressed, he'd defend his position.  The desperate were not to be experimented on and meddling with such powerful stuff could be dangerous. 

But he was curious.  The prospect of a cure? It almost seemed too good to hope for.

Flynn left and came back with a thick notebook.  It was filled to bursting and looked as if there were extra pages slipped in between the native ones.  Frequent page-turning had weakened the spine, the corners were frayed and dog-eared.

"How long have you been at it?" he asked, waiting for Flynn to lead him through it.

"How long have I been at it?" Flynn shook his head, "Years. It started with my father and his friend-- but it's been passed to me. " He explained,  "My dad's an herbologist for hobby and for work. He's also a potioneer for hobby alone. The other researcher-- Daniel--  was also a potioneer." And had been like an uncle, until his passing  not a year ago.  "They made some progress, but..."  Not enough.

"Werewolfry is... Not a curse. Not in the way people assume, but it's actually a magical illness. A complex magical illness. A clever illness." Curing it was not going to be an easy task, if Flynn ever could.

"But... I'd say... I've been working on this on and off for ten years." He had barely been an adult when he started, when his dad finally let him in. Ianto seemed to have given up, though he was still interested in hearing about Flynn's progress. 

He sat down next to Knox and gingerly opened up the notebook, "Daniel and my dad--they were friends since childhood. Dan didn't go to Hogwarts. They didn't allow werewolves at the time." He cleared his throat, "They started with wolfsbane, and looking at wolfsbane potion. Might as well start with the thing that worked, eh? They did multiple potion combinations... Until they decided to alter the plant itself." Flynn shook his head.

"It's...  Come a long way. But the plant we've created? It's highly poisonous and needs to be brewed a specific way." He skimmed through the pages until he got to a photograph of the plant itself-- about 30 centimeters high, in a pot that looked much too large for the plant itself. It's roots were the bulk of it. The stems were furry and and grey, the flowers a desaturated purple color.

 "It's highly flammable, smells a bit metallic.. I've been breeding it to make it less poisonous. Less of a hazard. But when brewed right, in conjunction with wolfsbane... Dan said it helped with the pain of transformation. And the night felt shorter, but... I don't know. I think we're getting close. I don't think we have a cure, but we have something."

Color Knox impressed.  Flynn Hughes had struck Knox from the outset as a manic wizard, young, and ambitious.  But ultimately inexperienced even with his flourishing career.  Knox had, to his disgrace, misundertaken the man.  He'd seen him as agreeable, compliant, but ultimately not ... a pioneer!

As Hughes told the tale, Knox perused the notebook gently, pausing to allow Flynn to turn to the page with the photograph of the plant.  It looked beastly and he well believed it was poisonous.  But the work the Hughes family had put into this venture in completely obscurity...it was admirable. Revolutionary.  And he found himself believing in the young wizard.

"Who else knows about this?" he asked.

He had an inkling that perhaps, Hughes's philanthropy was as clandestine and he and Hannah's. And if that were true, the risk of both ventures would not be shared between them.