Blood Magic

75 - Dark Arts and Dark Creatures

The beginning of the week was filled with whispers about the ball and people looking up unusual transfiguration and crafts spells. Harry had expected they would start the Marker Spell in Defense Against the Dark Arts on Monday, but Professor Lupin gave them a test on the previous two combining spells, instead. He assigned a short research project on the Marker Spell -- a way to prime someone to be the target of another spell -- and said they would start work on it on Wednesday.

On Wednesday, Remus looked pale and drawn. He stood, leaning back against his desk, while they all settled in. Harry knew the full moon was only a few days off; he found himself more afraid on Remus's behalf than his own.

Remus pulled himself upright. He swayed slightly, then steadied. "As you know, I had planned to start the Marker Spell today, but I've decided on a change."

Draco leaned close to Harry. "Since I'm afraid Mr. Malfoy would mark and curse all the Mudbloods, I've decided to cover tarnish-removal charms instead."

Harry worked on restraining a smile. He could feel his cheeks twitching.

"Harry, Draco ... have you something to share with the class?"

Harry wondered if Remus had overheard. The professor usually allowed quiet comments between the students, if they weren't disruptive or distracted.

Draco looked politely surprised. "No, sir."

Remus's mild look refocused. "Harry?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Very well. Ten points each from Slytherin and Gryffindor, and I'm separating the two of you. Harry, sit with Ron. Draco ..." Remus's eyes narrowed. "You may sit with Hermione Granger."

Draco shrugged with elaborate disinterest, then stood and walked over to Ron and Hermione's table, where Ron was just collecting his things.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," he said formally, his voice ringing clearly through the room. "I apologize for displacing your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend, and it's fine," Hermione said curtly. She managed a small smile. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco, with a smirk and a flourish, sat. Ron eased in next to Harry. "Surprised he moved."

"I'm not. He always complains about how you get better seats than we do."

Remus cleared his throat. "Saturday, as most of you should be aware, is the full moon. With that and the current political situation in mind, I wanted to teach you a few hexes which affect werewolves."

Harry, just shifting over to move his books, nearly fell off his chair. Draco choked audibly.

"Well, I say!" Justin reddened as his exclamation carried through the classroom. Harry raised his hand.

"Harry?"

"Won't that ... I mean, you're not supposed to do that, are you?"

"I doubt it will make much of a difference to my long term prospects. None of what I have to say is the exclusive knowledge of werewolves, although people tend to forget some of the points. Let's start with what you do know. How can you cause damage to a werewolf?"

For several breaths, there was only shocked silence. Remus's pallor was an inescapable reminder of his condition. He eased back against the desk. Hesitantly, people began advancing suggestions.

"Wolfsbane, in its raw form."

"In quantity, yes. Five points to Ravenclaw."

"The Wolfmann Zuruckfahrentrunk."

"That repels only; it does not cause damage."

"Silver!"

"If properly charged, and used as a weapon, yes. Five points to Gryffindor."

"Garlic?"

"No, that's vampires, Neville."

"La Pierre d'Affinage," Draco drawled, "vulgarly called the 'False Philosopher's Stone,' turns iron to silver. Either ingested or induced into the blood, it will kill a werewolf in seconds."

Remus looked queasy. "And a non-werewolf, Draco?"

"I don't know. It takes about a minute for it to kill a small duck." Draco shrugged uncomfortably. "Father let me play with his once, and I fed it to a duck. He took it away from me when I made a House Elf eat it. They're not affected, though."

Remus stared. Harry saw his throat move in a hard swallow. "Draco, killing a House Elf is ..." His jaw clenched. "... illegal."

"Well I didn't know any better! I was eight! Father told me he had killed a Muggle with it, and I wanted to try."

Remus was audibly trying to slow his breathing. "He took it from you."

"With a lecture on the difference between valuable magical servants and vermin, yes." Draco glanced at Hermione. "Sorry, Granger. That's what he said." He rested his head in his hands. "Sorry I mentioned it."

"No, Draco, that's ... it is an effective weapon against werewolves." Remus took another deep breath. "It will kill a werewolf almost instantaneously. A non-infected human will take several minutes, and can be saved, with prompt action." He looked around at them. "Five points to Slytherin. Anything else?"

Everyone was silent. "How about spells?" Remus prompted.

"Werewolves, in their curse form, are highly resistant to magical attack."

"As a rule, that is correct, Hermione. Five points to Gryffindor." Remus let out a long sigh. "We know, however, of three curses effective against werewolves. I have permission from the headmaster to teach you two of those." He scanned the room slowly. "All are Dark Arts."

"Professor!" Hermione yelped. Harry could not do more than stare. Remus sighed and squared his shoulders.

"Normally, yes, I would not teach you Dark Arts, and normally, Professor Dumbledore would not permit it. However, we are concerned about threats from the Wolven Freedom Union, and wish to prepare the older students with an effective magical defense. Anyone who feels, in conscience, that they cannot accept such instruction may leave for the practical portion of these lessons, but I will require all of you to know the theory of what the curses do to the target, what they don't do to the target, and what they do to the caster." Remus looked intently at each student in turn. "These curses are illegal to cast upon any target. Both will harm a werewolf; one can kill an uninfected human. We will not practice them on anything. They are only for when you are threatened by worse than the law."

Everyone nodded silently. Hannah burst into tears, and Justin put an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," Remus said. "I ... you shouldn't need to deal with this." He rubbed his face. "Well. The curses are the Weakening Hex -- Debilitario -- and the Breach Curse -- Rumperio.

"The Breach Curse is safer to cast, but also less effective. It removes the werewolf defenses and recuperative powers from a particular target area, so that you can strike with a physical weapon. Cast on an uninfected human it may cause spontaneous rupture of a large area of the skin -- yes, Harry?"

"I have a knife that is spelled not to cut human flesh. Can I use it against a werewolf?"

"If it will harm animals, yes, it can be used against a werewolf in wolven form. If you were to attack me now, of course, I would qualify as human."

"Okay."

"The Weakening Hex is much stronger. It degrades most of the werewolf's powers -- in healing, in resistance, in strength, and, most importantly, in the resistance to other hexes. However, it is much stronger Dark Arts, and thus has a greater effect on the caster. Harry, would you like to remind the class of the effects of Dark Arts?"

Harry found himself groping for words that would have come easily if he had chosen the time. "Well, um, Dark Art spells are part of a larger magical class properly called 'Soul Arts.' These spells require part of the soul to cast, but they also change it -- change it the same way they work. So, for example, the Cruciatus Curse requires that you enjoy causing pain, so casting it makes you enjoy that more. This spell ... um, I've never heard of it before, but I'd guess it might make the caster more of a bully?"

"Close," Lupin acknowledged. "Draco, do you know?"

"It enhances the caster's desire for power over others."

"Correct. A single use should not cause major personal changes, but it will be dangerous with repeated use. Of course, I hope none of you will need to repel werewolves repeatedly." Lupin gave the class a brittle smile. "And what, do you suppose, you should do after casting this hex? Padma?"

"Cast another hex."

"Correct. The primary use of the Weakening Hex is to make a werewolf susceptible to other curses. For physical attacks, the Breach Curse, as a more limited Dark Arts curse, is far safer to the caster." Remus shivered. "Well. Any questions? Once we have reviewed this, anyone who wishes to may leave...."

It was a very strange class. In some ways, Harry was glad he was not spending it next to Draco, though there certainly would have been sly comments, funny observations, and moments of shared understanding if he had. Ron was shocked into passivity. His only initiative was to stand to leave after the review, then sit again at Harry's gentle tug on his sleeve. At the end of the class, all the students were given limited passes to the Restricted Section and a three-foot essay assignment on the Weakening Hex and Breach Curse. Draco spared Harry only an apprehensive glance before hurrying off to lunch, and Hermione was preoccupied and distant. Harry wondered what Severus's library had on werewolves.

That class set the tone for the rest of the week. In the evening, Severus was not at dinner. He was also not in his office. Harry eventually portkeyed into his room in the dungeons. Before he even looked at the door, he noticed a pile of books on his bed.

He walked over. The pile contained books ranging from ancient to new. On the top was a note in Severus's spidery script.

I believe you might find these useful. As always, please restrain yourself from unnecessary experimentation. I do not anticipate having any available time before Monday. Urgent matters can go through the usual channels.

Harry wondered what "the usual channels" were. Dumbledore? Getting detention? He shrugged, and looked at the books. Dark Creatures; Dark Methods was on top. Underneath that was a musty Werewolves and Their Weaknesses and a modern volume titled Bad Moon Rising. On the bottom were two old texts: A Gramerye of Defenses Against Lycanthropes, and Magik Against the Accurséd -- the Werwolfe, Vampyr, and Walking Dead.

Harry looked through the books, but found most of them too disturbing to more than skim. In addition to Remus's curses, they contained far more gruesome Dark Arts spells and potions, such as one to lock the re-emergent human between forms, until the flux killed them. Many of these were illustrated. Magik Against the Accurséd was particularly lovingly illuminated with grotesque monsters and attacks washed in scarlet. Harry grew more and more anxious as he looked through the books. His mood was not helped by the inference that Severus was busy with work for Voldemort, nor the thought that he had read these books, probably while angry at Remus.

Thursday's Daily Prophet had two articles on werewolves: one warning people of the upcoming full moon, and one reviewing the rise of the WFU. Friday's had a retrospective of numbers and types of werewolf attacks in Britain over the last three years compared to those during Voldemort's first rise. It glossed over the politics of Voldemort's incitement of werewolf resentment, and instead left the impression that increased werewolf attacks were a natural phenomenon arising from an increase in Dark energy. Harry's stomach twisted too badly to eat. He wanted to speak quickly to Remus, if only as a tacit acknowledgement of affection, but the man -- the werewolf -- wasn't at breakfast.

Harry walked down to Potions, and sat in his usual place. He stared at his scales without actually seeing them. When Remus had spoken to him a few days earlier, he had intended to deceive Randolph. Teaching all the sixth and seventh year Hogwarts students how to fight werewolves did not seem to support that effort. Had he given up? Did he intend to die? Harry curled over the bench, trying to think of some way to reach Remus. He hoped Remus would teach his class today, but he knew it was not likely, with the moon so close.

It wasn't until Professor Snape began the lecture that Harry noticed Draco had entered the room. The blond was sitting across the aisle and a row ahead of Harry, at a table by himself. Harry stared at the back of his head. He spent the rest of class alternating between panicking about Remus and wondering why Draco hadn't sat with him. By the time they were dismissed, he had lost thirty points for Gryffindor.

Harry moved forward immediately.

"Draco?"

For a moment, Draco did not move at all. Then, very slightly, his head shifted to the side. "Yes, Potter?"

"Are you ... What did I do?"

Draco's head came fully to the side at that. "Considering how you've been snubbing me the past two days, I think I should be the one asking that."

"Snub-- Draco, I haven't seen you!"

"You didn't see me standing in the aisle waiting for you to move over? Didn't notice when I said your name?"

"No -- no, I didn't. I'm sorry."

"How can you not notice someone who's a foot away from you?"

"I'm sorry," Harry repeated. "I've been worried about Remus -- I'm not thinking of much else. I didn't see you'd come in until after class started."

Draco let his breath out in a whoosh, and suddenly his tense expression relaxed to its usual amused scorn. "Honestly, Harry, you ought to have your head examined! Pack your bag, now, and we'll talk on the way upstairs."

"Now," Draco said, once they were moving, "explain to me why you are worried about someone who is already a werewolf."

"Last summer, Re-- Lupin got into trouble speaking against Randolph -- you know who he is, right? The WFU leader? Randolph said Remus was a traitor and it was okay for other werewolves to kill him, but he didn't actually demand that anyone kill him. I think that teaching two Hogwarts classes anti-werewolf curses may be enough for him to do that."

"Oh." Draco stared at the banister sliding under his hand. "Good reason. Nothing you can do about it, though."

"I know. I'd like to talk to him, though. Last time we talked, I yelled at him." Harry had a sudden memory of Mrs. Weasley bursting into tears over Fred and George when they made it home from the World Cup unharmed. He didn't want to come any closer to feeling like that than he did already.

When they left the stairs, Harry glimpsed the black swirl of Severus's robes at the far end of the long corridor. "Snape's teaching it today," Draco murmured. Harry nodded. He was not surprised. When they entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Severus was standing at the front of it, his arms drawing in his robes to make him a foreboding pillar of darkness.

"Once again, I find that your progress bears no relation to Professor Lupin's lesson plans," he sneered, "nor to any conception of what you may need to know -- except, perhaps, for a spontaneous lesson on werewolves?" Severus smiled in vindictive amusement. "Accordingly, I am testing you on Dementors. Put away your books and take out parchment and a quill. We will begin when everyone is ready. The longer you dawdle, the less time you will have to attempt to pass."

Harry's skill in repelling Dementors was common knowledge, but this was a test on theory, not practice. He didn't know half the answers, and it was with mingled embarrassment and resentment that he handed back his paper. Severus skimmed through the tests and began to intermingle a lesson with sneering readings of responses. Harry wanted to stand up and scream at him. He controlled himself by wondering if this sort of behavior indicated that Severus was under stress -- could Order members map it to periods of high activity? Except, he thought, Snape was like this before Voldemort returned. It could be other kinds of stress as well, though. Trouble with Mr. Malfoy, perhaps, back then. Or, well, this is all tied into Remus, isn't it?

"Stop your woolgathering, Potter! This is crucial information!"

Harry's thoughts broke into crackles of panicked understanding. If he had been speaking aloud, they would have burst out in obscenities enough to get him detention. Severus knew what Voldemort had planned with the Dementors. Like Remus -- although much less pleasantly -- he was giving them the knowledge they needed to protect themselves. For the rest of the class, Harry forced himself to pay attention.

The scheduled DA meeting after dinner was an unusually subdued affair. On the suggestion of Michael Corner, taking his turn as session leader, the members discussed the anti-werewolf curses, and practiced combined attacks. After dismissal, most of the members lingered, quietly discussing the werewolves, and speculating who might be tomorrow's target.

"Do you think Lupin..." Harry tensed at the words from Dean, but the expected distrust did not follow. "-- you think he'll be attacked, too?"

Harry let out a breath. "Could be," he said.

"I'd bet they're none too pleased with him." Susan's hair shifted as she nodded.

"Lupin for sure!" Ernie exclaimed. "He gave the same lesson to all the sixth- and seventh-year students -- Dark Arts anti-werewolf curses and a review of more conventional techniques."

"You know, one has to wonder --"

"He will be a target, then."

Harry tensed. "Randolph ..." Harry had to think for a moment. "... Liber, of the WFU, has already said that Professor Lupin may be killed --"

"Doomed," Ernie commented.

"Maybe I could get pictures!" Colin nearly bounced with excitement. Harry froze. He saw Ron wince.

"Colin," Hermione said pointedly, "a number of us are rather fond of Professor Lupin."

"Imagine it though! A picture of werewolves fighting! It'd be brilliant!" He noticed a few of the looks he was getting and lowered his voice. "I'd hope he'd win, of course."

The problem with Colin, Harry thought, was that he was so unaware that he was offensive that it hardly seemed fair to hold it against him. Other people did not seem to have this problem.

"If you dare say again that it would be 'brilliant' for my favorite professor to get attacked by murderous terrorists, I am going to show you an attack you will not find pleasant," Justin said pointedly.

"You wouldn't dare anyway," Lavender scoffed. "How are you going to photograph fighting werewolves? Do you think you and your precious camera would get away afterwards?"

Saturday morning dawned grey and drizzly. Harry hoped it would last until the next morning, but the Daily Prophet forecast only scattered clouds in the evening. Dean's Muggle paper, which he got for the football scores, agreed.

Harry sulked about the castle in a deep funk until Ron dragged him outside. "All this sitting around is no good for you, Harry."

"Going out in the rain is?"

"Let's go see Hagrid."

Hagrid wasn't in, so they went down to the cages to watch the Phantasimite, Hagrid's latest pride and joy. Currently, it was mimicking a Romanian Longhorn. Harry thought it would be quite convincing if it was large enough. A dragon the size of a collie looked rather odd; it kept reminding him of Norbert, but it looked more adult, somehow.

He heard a rustle behind them, and turned to see three children peering cautiously around the gooseberry bushes.

"Hi," Ron said.

"Hi," said one of the children. He was the middle-sized one, with medium-brown hair, but he carried himself with authority.

"Sigurd! We're not supposed to talk to them," the larger boy hissed.

Ron grinned. "It's all right," he said. He pointed at Harry. "He's Harry Potter."

The children's eyes all widened.

"Why is that dragon so little?" Sigurd recovered quickly, apparently.

"Do you know what kind of dragon it is?" Harry asked.

"Well, it looks like a Romanian Longhorn, but it's too little. Is it a baby?"

Ron looked impressed. "Kid knows his dragons," he remarked with a nod.

Harry smiled. "It's not a dragon, at all. It's a Phantasimite mimicking a dragon. If you watch for a while, you may see it change." The children stepped closer. "Don't touch the cage, now."

"'Kay," said the youngest boy, carefully clasping his hands behind his back. For a long while, they watched.

"This is boring." The words were no sooner out of the largest boy's mouth when the little dragon began to change. Its legs lengthened and its neck shortened. Shining feathers and smooth fur replaced scales. Within a minute, they were looking at a charmingly miniature Hippogriff. The youngest boy clapped with delight.

"Pretty good," Sigurd announced.

Ron and Harry didn't dare leave the children alone by the cage, so they stayed and talked to them. Harry had learned quite a bit about the hidden refugee community at Hogwarts by the time a harassed-looking wizard showed up on a school broom.

"You three! You know you're not supposed to be outside at the weekends, and you're not supposed to talk to the big boys!"

Harry and Ron crept away to "I don't care if he's Harry Potter; he's still a stranger, and he's still a student at the school!"

Harry and Ron had no sooner stepped inside the Entrance Hall than Fawkes appeared in front of them. He offered Harry a little roll of lavender parchment, then climbed up Harry's arm to settle on his shoulder.

"What is it?"

Harry frowned. "I'm supposed to go to Dumbledore's office. Look, I'll meet you back in Gryffindor, okay? Or at dinner, if he keeps me late."

"All right."

Depending on the available space, Fawkes alternated between flying around Harry and riding on his shoulder. Younger students stared openly as they passed, and the older ones put visible effort into not doing the same. Outside Dumbledore's office, the phoenix trilled. When there was no response to his knock, Harry hesitantly opened the door. Severus was just stepping out of the fire.

"Hi." Harry came inside and closed the door. "Where's the headmaster?"

"Busy. He called you here on my behalf -- it seemed the safest way to see you."

"Okay."

Severus let out a long hissing breath. "We have reason to believe the werewolves have selected you as this month's target."

"Yeah, I know."

"You -- What!"

"Remus ..." Harry swallowed. "... sent me word."

"Did you consider telling anybody?"

Harry blinked. "Didn't think it would make any difference."

Severus glared. "In the future, please inform the headmaster and myself of any death threats you receive. Are you simple?"

"It wasn't a threat," Harry explained. "More of a warning. He promised he wouldn't."

Severus hissed. He shook his head. "Well. That is confirmation. So, you are to be in Gryffindor by moonrise and I want you to stay there."

"What about dinner?"

Severus hesitated, then nodded. "You may go to dinner with your housemates and return with them. Do not linger."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course not! I mean, why would I make it easy for them?"

Severus looked hard at him for a moment, then stepped forward. Hesitantly, he raised a hand to Harry's shoulder, and squeezed with an almost painful grip.

"Good." His hand dropped. "Go."

Harry wordless, nodded and left.

Harry had just reached the second floor landing when someone stepped from an alcove a mere pace to one side of him. Harry grabbed for his wand before recognizing the figure -- Remus Lupin. Under the circumstances, that was not as reassuring as it could have been. He kept his hand on his wand, but did not draw or point it. Remus stepped forward. He looked strange and wild in the dim light; it was easy to consider him inhuman now. Harry stepped back into the banister, but Remus closed the distance again. He swayed on his feet from the effect of the approaching moon, now short hours away, as he leaned close. For a moment, Harry thought the werewolf might collapse on him, or bite him, or ... something, but instead, he heard an unmistakable slow sniff inwards.

"Remus...."

"His scent on you. He touches you." Remus lifted his head. His eyes were burning in his pale face. "If I didn't love you, I'd hate you."

Harry, oddly, remembered the moment when he had realized he was jealous of Selena. "Look, sorry about that, but...." Harry tried to shift to the side. Remus stepped back a half-pace, so the distance was no longer intimidating, but still oddly intimate. Harry wondered if wolves had the concept of personal space, and if so, how they used it.

"I should be in my room," Remus muttered. He rubbed at his eyes. "But I needed to tell you, Harry ... if I die, I did not die for you. I died for me. Do you understand that?"

"So I shouldn't feel guilty," Harry forced out.

"You should not. Were it a child I had never heard of, my decision would be the same -- at least, I like to think so." Remus shuddered. "If not, you save me again."

And Harry, suddenly, did understand. He wanted to grasp Lupin's arm in support and to swear it would be all right, but he was afraid to touch him, and he knew better than to make promises. He shifted to the side and nodded slightly.

"I am not afraid of death," Remus said absently. "Perhaps I will see them again -- Sirius and James ... Lily."

"If you live," Harry said, "if we both do...."

"Yes?"

"I'd like to talk to you about James."

Remus nodded. "Next week, stay away. I will be grieving and angry. But ... when it is all over ..."

He had cut off his connections, Harry realized. What he had done in Wednesday's classes did not allow for truce with both sides.

Remus took a breath. "When the split completes, I should be safe for you to visit, again. Come to me at the waning quarter."

Harry nodded. Remus sighed. His fey, dangerous manner fell from him, and suddenly he just looked old and weary.

"I need to sleep. Wish me a good moon, Harry."

Harry nodded automatically, and then heard the request repeat in his mind. He thought for a moment. "Have a brilliant and wonderful moon," he said sincerely. His voice caught. It was too easy to picture a wolf racing at the side of a big, black dog. Perhaps I will see them again....

His words drew a smile from Remus, but only for a moment. Without another sound, he turned away. Harry watched him pull himself wearily up the stairs toward his room.

To Harry's disappointment, the clouds cleared around sunset. The moon, he knew, would be rising before full dark. He stayed in the common room playing chess with Ron, for lack of anything better to do, until it was time for dinner. People kept talking about werewolves, and Harry's comment at the DA meeting had obtained epic proportions -- Harry heard a third-year tell a first year that he had best come back directly after dinner, because an elite WFU attack group was coming in to take out Professor Lupin, and infect any students straying in the hallways.

At dinner, Ron dared to sit near Lavender. Colin complained of a stomachache and left before dessert. His departure bothered Harry. He told himself that it shouldn't -- Colin still desperately wanted Lavender, and had left or skipped meals more times that Harry could count, since term started. Harry mulled it over under the bustle of conversation among Hermione, Ginny, and Dean. He watched Ron leave on the heels of Lavender and Parvati, and Iggy leave with Andrew and Jack. His mind replayed Colin's quiet departure repeatedly, but it wasn't until he and Hermione were heading back upstairs, a decent half-flight down from Ginny and Dean, that he saw it. Colin hadn't looked hurt, or even angry. He had looked determined.

"Hell."

He had stopped short with his feet on different steps. Hermione, a step above the higher one, stopped also and turned. "Harry?"

"Colin."

"He'll get over it."

"No -- the look on his face when he was leaving. He's going to do it. He's going to try to photograph a werewolf."

"Don't be ridiculous! Even Colin couldn't be that stupid."

"You think?"

"Oh, maybe he --" Hermione frowned. "No."

They hurried upstairs. Just inside the door, they stopped and scanned the room for Colin. No. They moved further in, to look behind the couches. Colin was not there. They searched again for Dennis, then for Lavender. Neither was anywhere to be seen. Harry led the way over to Ron, sitting on his own near the chess tables. Ron grinned at them as they threw themselves down on the couch nearest him.

"I made it through an entire dinner with Lavender without saying anything stupid!" he said happily. He frowned. "I suppose that means I've lost interest in her?"

"Good job, and not necessarily. Look, have you seen Colin?"

"No." Ron shrugged. "Would I want to?"

"I think he may try to photograph a werewolf."

Hermione sighed. "I don't think he could really be that stupid -- do you, Ron?"

"Ah, you know Colin." Ron sniggered. "He'd probably think it a great lark, becoming a werewolf."

Harry looked over at Hermione. Her mouth was open, caught wordless. Harry rubbed his temples with one spread hand.

"What's wrong?" Ron straightened up in his seat. "Well, wouldn't he?"

"Yes," Harry answered grimly, "he would." He drew the hand down his face and looked at Hermione again. This time, her eyes met his, communicating a shared sense of impending disaster.

Ron shrugged and stood. "Well, let's check the map, then. I mean, there's no need to panic yet, is there?"

Harry ran upstairs, grabbed the map from his trunk, and ran back down. He unrolled it against the back of the couch, and they began to search the finished patches. Harry let out a sigh of relief when there was no one between Hogwarts and the forest.

"People in the greenhouse tunnel," Ron whispered. Harry looked. There were two little dots near the greenhouse, and four much further back. All were moving in towards Hogwarts. He bent closer to see the names. "Flint?" A moment later, he let out a gasp. "And Selena, back with the larger group."

"Marcus Flint?"

"That's what it says. In front. I don't recognize the other name."

"So they're not all werewolves."

"He could have been infected."

"No," Hermione said firmly. "They need someone with hands to shift the trap door and let them out of the greenhouse."

"Crap duty, that," Ron said. "Even if they have all taken their medicine."

"Well he obviously doesn't want to be too close."

They all looked back at the map.

"They're coming in fast."

"Colin!" Hermione pointed. Colin was moving down the stairs. He was still a flight above the Entrance Hall. "He must have --"

"Let's go!" Harry headed for the door.

"Harry, no! Wait!"

Harry had a good idea what Hermione would say -- something about staying safe in Gryffindor, especially if Ron had confided in her -- but he wasn't going to give her the chance. If he ran, and Colin hesitated, he might be able to stop him. He raced across the room, dived out into the corridor, and tore down the stairs. Hermione came pounding down behind him.

Harry estimated that Hermione was a flight and a half behind him by the time he reached the Entrance Hall. No one was there. He dashed across the space and down the final steps to the door.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione's shout from the inner stairway hit a nearly maternal level of command. "Don't you dare open that door!"

"I won't go out!" Harry yanked the door open. "COLIN!" Harry yelled into the night. "COLIN!"

"I'll get Snape! I swear I will!"

"COLIN!" Harry peered out onto the empty landscape, silver under the rising moon. He heard Hermione clattering away down the stairs, presumably to make good on her threat, but he knew he could ignore that, for another minute or two. He stood cautiously in the doorway, listening hard and letting his eyes adjust to the relative darkness. He could see nothing moving on the broad cut lawn, or in the low gardens. Colin, had he traveled at a jog, might be in the Forbidden Forest, by now -- too far away to hear him. Harry patted his pockets looking for the map, but didn't find it. He had left it in the common room, he realized, and he wondered if Hermione had remembered to bring it down. "Damn it!"

Remembering her departure, he suddenly absorbed that he was alone and nearly out of the school. He had promised both Remus and Severus that he would be more careful than that, tonight. Reluctantly, he backed inside, still scanning the area around Greenhouse Four and Hagrid's hut and shed for any sign of movement.

It wasn't until he turned around that he saw the wolf.

It was standing on the inner staircase, hind feet resting on the landing, forefeet a step lower, the paws about level with Harry's eyes. The position gave it the appearance of a mountain predator, surveying the land below. It would have looked like something from a Muggle wildlife calendar, if the snout had not been just a little too long, the pricked ears at slightly the wrong angle. It had deep, inhuman, golden eyes that locked on Harry's own with the force of an Imperius Curse. He couldn't move. He wasn't sure he was breathing.

"Remus?" His voice came out in a barely audible croak. I guess I can breathe, then. He deliberately drew in air, and his chest constricted around it. There was something unreal and paralyzing about the sight of this wild animal against the worn, worked stone of the great castle. The wolf's head lowered, and it stalked three steps lower and closer to him.

"Remus!" Higher now -- his voice was audible, but almost cracking. Harry wondered if the wolf was Remus. For all he knew, this could be Selena -- no, she couldn't have got inside so quickly. Another wolf, though. The creature's ears had flattened against its skull, and the long teeth were appearing as the black lips drew back. Over the roar of his own blood, Harry heard a rumbling snarl.

"Remus, please!" He backed up a step, then realized that put him back in the open doorway, with all that unknown space behind him, and more werewolves on the grounds.

The wolf tensed back on its muscular haunches, snarling again. It leapt. As its back paws left the stone stairs, Harry threw himself to one side. He felt a burst of pain as his shoulder hit the stone floor, but he managed to keep his head tucked and to continue the roll till he was facing back at the doorway. His forgotten wand was in his hand by reflex and pointing at ... nothing.

Harry blinked and scanned the area before him frantically. There was no wolf, no ... nothing. Just the still-open door, and beyond it, a strip of silver-lit stone....

Cursing loudly, Harry pushed to his feet. He lurched over to the door and looked outside. There! A plumed tail caught the moonlight as the creature loped easily across the silver grass, already more than halfway to the shadow of the forest. Harry had the sudden, desperate thought that he should have brought his Firebolt.

"POTTER!"

Severus's enraged scream made Harry flinch back from the open door. Instinctively, he slammed it shut and put his back to it.

"I was just look-"

"You were just being a reckless idiot! What are you doing OUT OF YOUR ROOM?"

"Colin --"

Severus spoke through clenched teeth. "The stupidity of other students is not your responsibility, Potter."

Harry shivered. The wolf had been bluffing. It may have been Remus -- it probably was, considering it didn't bite me. Remus might have a good reason to be out on the grounds -- well, no, but he didn't bite me. Don't I owe him...?"

Severus was watching his face. "What is it?"

Harry remembered the wolf's snarl, mere feet away. "There was a wolf, sir." He felt ill.

Severus brandished the map. "Several."

"No, here. It sprang at me, and when I dived away, it escaped through the door."

Severus swore. He sprang for the door himself, opened it, and stared out at the empty grounds.

"IDIOTS! I don't know why I BOTHER!" He whirled on Harry. "YOU...! And that damned werewolf, because you idiots will TRUST HIM!" He turned aside, and with shaking hands, he unrolled the map. In a moment, his enraged face went blank.

"Lupin," he said flatly. "He's meeting the others. Just couldn't keep out of it -- a spot of excitement."

The malice of his attention returned to Harry, and to Hermione, who had crept to Harry's side. "You," he said coldly, "are to go to Dumbledore, do you understand me? Go tell him his tame werewolf is ranging the grounds again, and with friends, near a foolish student." He took a perceptible breath and looked back at the closed door. "I will do what I can, but I need reinforcements quickly."

Harry gasped as the implications of that sunk in. He waved an arm at the door. "You can't go out there!"

"I," Severus returned coldly, "am an adult. I will do as I think best. You will go to Dumbledore, and then to your room. NOW!"

With that final shriek, he opened the door, plunged out, and slammed it hard behind him.

"Oh god," Hermione gasped.

He won't make it. Help won't get to him on time. It can't. Harry grabbed at the door, but his father had sealed it somehow. He turned to Hermione. "Look, could you do the talking to Dumbledore thing?" Suspicion was growing on her face, so he hurried on. "I think I better tell the others not to look for Colin."

It probably helped that his voice shook. Suspicion turned to sympathy and she nodded. "I'll join you as soon as I can," she said. Side by side, they ran up the stairs. Hermione veered off, panting and red, at the third floor, while Harry, still moving as though the wolf was snapping at his heels, continued upward, towards Gryffindor Tower.