Lycan-therapy

Chapter 2

"...Lycanthropes were hunted as fervently as witches and wizards during de Burning Times. Historical records note that between 1520 and 1630, around 30,000 werewolves were hanged or burned at de stake in France alone, where de illness was rampant at de time and where it is believed to have originated. One might think, given these facts that we magical folk would take pity on them. However, lycanthropes have long been shunned in Wizarding Society- owing primarily to misinformation and media hype. Lycanthropes receive phenomenal amounts of bad press, just as witches do in de Muggle world. They are often painted as de villain in children's literature-"

This is unbelievably, mind-numbingly tedious. I wonder if he is of any relation to Binns; even Lupin is starting to look drowsy.

"Muggles suffering from the condition call it porphyria. It is interesting to note dat a great many monarchs suffered from de disease, including James I, who was responsible for de driving force behind de Witch Burnings here in England; another cause of increased tension between lycanthropes and Wizard kind-"

"Really, Doctor," I find I must interrupt- Lupin is drifting off and I'd hate for him to fall asleep. Drooling might occur. "I am quite aware of the technicalities surrounding Lupin's condition having received Outstanding on my Defence Against The Dark Arts NEWT."

"And having taught several unauthorised lessons on the subject in my absence a few years back."

I raise an eyebrow at Lupin's pathetic attempt at a jibe, "Quite."

"Zeverus, I merely wish to ensure you are not misinformed over any aspect of Remus' condition," Van Dalek explains. "You see, Zeverus, hatred stems from fear, and fear stems from ignorance, yah? Indeed, de philosopher Socrates thought ignorance was de source of all evil-"

I cut in before he can begin another lecture, "My dislike of werewolves, Doctor, comes from empirical knowledge of them."

Lupin snorts beside me. The bloody sofa still hasn't been re-enlarged and I feel we are a little too close for comfort. It is bad enough having to spend extended periods of time in the same room as Lupin without having him practically sitting on my lap. "Where do you find the gall to say you have empirical knowledge of werewolves," Lupin mutters, "without ever having experienced the excruciating pain of your very bone structure mutating, your teeth lengthening and in the process splitting you gums, five million new hair follicles simultaneously wrenching themselves open and being powerless to stop yourself losing control over your own mind every month for years on end.

"You don't know what fear is," he snaps finally. I roll my eyes at his melodramatics,

"My heart bleeds for you, Lupin."

Van Dalek is now watching the werewolf with piqued interest. "Remus, what form does your Boggart take?"

Lupin looks a little surprised by this question. "The full moon."

"I thought as much," Van Dalek says, tapping his chin contemplatively with the tip of his quill. "May I ask how you expect others to overcome their fear of your condition if you yourself cannot master it?"

Well now, this is a rarity, not to be the one on the receiving end of Van Dalek's psychological scrutiny.

Lupin seems to consider the question seriously for awhile, frowning in mild concentration. When he does speak, it is not an answer, "But, surely there is a difference between our fears? Severus fears me in my human state as well as in my lupine form, whereas I know myself to be in complete control at all times with the exception of the few hours at the full moon."

I scoff at him, "I don't fear you in your human state." The idea is laughable; when compared with Death Eater rallies and meetings in graveyards with the Dark Lord, Lupin in his cardigans fails to make much of an impact. "I merely find you repulsive company and annoyingly incapable of shaving correctly."

Lupin gasps indignantly at this and forces a laugh, "My facial hair offends you?"

"Immensely." It looks ridiculous.

"And those are your grounds for poisoning me?"

"Stop dis bickering!" Van Dalek orders, already exasperated by us, "Severus, it is obvious to myself and those around you dat your fear of werewolves is spiralling out of control!"

I grind my teeth at this but say nothing.

"Now, as it has been brought up, what possessed you to try to murder Remus?" I am torn between indignation and humour at his conversational tone.

"I didn't attempt to kill him," I protest. The werewolf huffs incredulously. "I'm a Potions Master for Circe's sake! If I had wanted to kill him I wouldn't have failed. It was more of a practical joke- I only intended to scare him," I conclude offhandedly. Lupin adopts his wounded-puppy expression.

"Like he scared you, yah?" Van Dalek supposes quietly, "When he transformed all those years ago." I remain silent and watch him write this down. Taking my lack of objection as an agreement, Van Dalek continues, "Remus, how does hearing dis make you feel?"

The werewolf with a very nearly convincing doleful face says "Sad?" as if undecided. Van Dalek nods and smiles encouragingly. "A little hurt."

"Angry?" Van Dalek prompts and something ambiguous flickers in Lupin's eyes.

"Doctor," I drawl, "do not suggest that Lupin feels aggressive at any time other than the full moon, he simply won't allow himself to feel he might be succumbing to his more animalistic side."

The werewolf shoots me a venomous glare but Van Dalek ignores me completely and urges again, "Remus?"

Lupin turns to Van Dalek, "Pitying. What kind of a wizard is unable to lay childhood grudges to rest after twenty years? One shouldn't feel angry towards those who are clearly mentally unhinged-"

"And you'd know all about lunacy, wouldn't you Lupin?" I interrupt acidly, "What are the latest figures? One in three werewolves end up in the St Mungo's Funny Farm after eventually cracking under the strain. Are you feeling quite sane, Lupin? Not hearing voices telling you to devour little children yet? No hallucinations-"

Van Dalek hits us both with tickling charms before Lupin has a chance to draw his wand. I think I have touched a nerve. Ever since we began these sessions, Lupin has become increasingly easy to provoke. Van Dalek really shouldn't encourage the man to show his true feelings; it isn't good for him.

"You will both stop dis incessant squabbling! It is unproductive and immature!" He snaps once the hex has worn off. "Now, where were we?"

Van Dalek resumes his lecture on the history and physiology of lycanthropes, "In 1985, de development of de Wolfsbane potion marked a revolutionary advancement in research into the disease- which in general, is grossly under funded. De Wolfsbane potion was discovered by Cyrus Zalewski, a leading Potions Master, already recognised internationally for his work with Bloodroot. His motivation behind the potion was his son's unfortunate encounter with a werewolf- the boy was left bitten at the age of ten. He embarked on a search for a cure for his son's affliction and after two years was rewarded when he stumbled across a potion that would suppress de irrational bestiality that accompanies de transformation-"

Now the man has the audacity to lecture me in my own field of expertise! As if I would be unaware of the context of such a radical potion.

"Now, we touched on dis in de last session," Van Dalek is saying. "You make de Wolfsbane potion for Remus every month, do you not Zeverus?" I incline my head in agreement. "A favour I find most interesting."

I arch an eyebrow, "I assure you, the situation is really not so complex; Dumbledore tells me to make the damn thing and I make it, in the knowledge that if I do not, the lives of Hogwarts' staff and students will be at risk and that I will not be able to sleep at night if I think there is an uncontrollable werewolf roaming the grounds. The old coot is very good at manipulating people like that."

"You feel manipulated?" Van Dalek enquires.

"Yes, used and abused, "I drawl, "don't you feel sorry for me."

"I do appreciate it you know," Lupin pipes up. I turn to stare at him, now back to his old meek and mild self.

"So you say every month." No, I cannot fault the werewolf on his manners.

"Well, I'm just reminding you."

"Believe me Lupin, your gratitude is no extra incentive."

He shrugs coolly, "You have it anyway." Merlin, he is infuriating. I roll my eyes and this seems to amuse them both.

"Severus, your Boggart. It takes de form of a werewolf, am I correct?"

"Yes," I answer without inflection.

"Might I ask what your method for banishing it is?"

"No."

Van Dalek blinks slowly- I see the wheels turning in his mind as a mild frown settles on his brow- he thinks I am being deliberately contrary. "No? Why?"

"I don't wish to discuss it," I reply lightly. "You made it quite clear in our first session that if a topic arose that made us feel uncomfortable we had every right to object to it."

Van Dalek narrows his eyes and tries to read my face, "Are you able to banish a Boggart, Severus?"

I clench my jaw and say nothing, though my silence speaks volumes. I feel Lupin surreptitiously staring at me while Van Dalek scribbles down this embarrassing revelation. I am incapable of a simple banishment most Third Year students could manage...

"I have a Boggart in storage for phobia-treatment, Severus. Would you care to face it?"

I grin sarcastically, "Why, yes, what a treat that shall be! I'm sure it will make for fabulous entertainment- you both watching while I humiliate myself!"

"I tink we can be quite certain Mister Lupin will not use it against you for personal gratification." The delicate stress on 'Mister Lupin' implying Van Dalek would add 'that is more the sort of thing you would do' but his code of medical practice forbids him. "And I certainly won't ridicule you over it." I raise a sceptical eyebrow. "Severus, if you practice facing your fear you will eventually be able to overcome it. Having difficulty facing Boggarts is a classic symptom of phobia sufferers. You are not alone-"

Oh Merlin, "Spare me the sentiments- any talk of us 'getting through this together' and 'believing in myself' and I'm leaving!" I grit my teeth at the unpleasant writhing in my stomach. "If I must do this let us get it over with as soon as possible."

Van Dalek returns minutes later with a large wooden chest, strapped up and fitted with several locks. During the time that has elapsed in his absence, Lupin and I have sat in silence, largely ignoring each other's presence.

"Now!" Van Dalek claps his hands to reclaim our attention. "Remus, if you could step away and Severus come over here, yah?"

I obey somewhat passively, and move to stand beside him in the centre of the room while Van Dalek with a flick of his wand rearranges the furniture to give maximum floor space. He clasps my shoulders in a vicelike grip that I assume is meant to be reassuring but only serves to heighten my level of panic.

"Severus, before we begin I tink dat it would be beneficial to do some breathing exercises!"

I stare mutely at the idiot while he orders me to join him in "breathing in, two, three four, breathing out, two, three, four". His whiskey nostrils whistle and quiver comically on the inhale, "and release through de mouth!" Van Dalek demonstrates by blowing a gust of fetid air in my face.

I comply, closing my eyes and breathing deeply if only to summon the sufficient self-restraint to keep me from hexing the old pillock into next week. It does little to alleviate my unease. I find it shameful that I have in the past lied to the Dark Lord without wavering, witnessed torture, rape and murder firsthand and not so much as flinched- and yet, I am afraid to face a pretend werewolf.

Van Dalek starts to babble on in a manner that is meant to be comforting, "Remember, Severus, you are about to face de Boggart in a controlled environment- you may ask to stop at any time and I will banish de Boggart straight away, yah?" I nod stiffly. "Now, when it has taken de shape of a werewolf, I would like you to visualise de creature's teeth dropping out, yah?"

As Van Dalek turns to unlock the chest, his movements seem to grow more languid. In the seconds before the lid is thrown back I chance a furtive glance at Lupin who is stood quietly by the window to my left. His expression might appear impassive to most, his gaze fixed on the chest in mild curiosity- but as a Legilimens, and having studied the subtle art of reading the outward physical disclosures of the mind's inner workings, I recognise an almost imperceptible change in the beast's posture, a shadow in his eyes- but before I can analyse further, the cold comes.

Impulsively, I tighten my grip on my wand and try to focus on its solidity. Blood is pounding in my ears, involuntarily my breathing quickens, and where is the Goddamn beast?

I smell it before I see it. Hot stagnant breath skims my neck and a low predatory growl rumbles behind me. The stench of filthy wet fur and ancient earth seems to fill the room. In my mind, I am transported back twenty five years to the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow. Nausea hits me in a series of waves, each one more intense than the last. Unable to unlock my limbs, I stand immobile, waiting for something to happen.

Grunting, it circles me, yellow eyes flashing.

Riddikulus. Yes, it is ridiculous, ridiculous that I am unable to speak a simple incantation, ridiculous that the word catches in my throat and chokes me. Its eyes are possessive, gloating; it knows it has won. It bares its teeth in a parody of a grin. Van Dalek is shouting something. The werewolf gnashes its jaws, hackles raised, its skulking shape is tense as it prepares to pounce-

I can only assume it was Van Dalek who banished the Boggart- I do not fully remember. I am led to the sofa and become vaguely aware of being told to "breathe deeply".

Lupin has come forward. He touches my arm, eyes brimming with concern; damn him. Damn him to a thousand hells, the bastard. His pity is possibly the only thing more humiliating than what has just happened. He draws back at the glare I give him, though whether it is contempt or fear he sees, I couldn't say.

To Be Continued