Summoned

Chapter 7: Wolfsbane

"The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. ... Before Wolfsbane potion was discovered, however..."

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

July 10, 1995, night

It was not the pain that made it so hard to bear. It wasn't even their breaking through the Memory Charm, though the effects of that were fierce, and Orestes' attack had been sharply targeted, like a steel knife slicing his memories open. It was only partly the fact that he remembered, now, that which the Dark Lord had not intended him to remember. At least not until Voldemort felt it would serve his purposes.

None of that mattered next to the horrible humiliation of knowing that someone else had seen, had found out, even if they didn't know the real reason for it. That at least two people now knew what had been blocked, what he would have done anything to keep blocked. And one of those people he would have to continue facing, day in and day out, for as long as he remained at Hogwarts.

It was too much. It was too much, too quickly revealed, too many separate pains to endure. If anything could be worse than what he'd suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord, this reliving of it all was.

There were other terrors in his life he had successfully hidden from Dumbledore: what had happened when the authorities arrested his mother and dragged him along; what his father had done to earn himself a death sentence.

At least, he hoped he had kept those hidden: the last few days were little more than vague images and dreams, now. It felt as if his mind were vomiting up every foul, degrading memory it could find, as if all the worst parts of his life were there before his eyes, tormenting him, taunting him, cursing him...

"Be sure he's still useful to me when you've finished, Lucius. And don't forget the Memory Charm. We can't have him babbling to Dumbledore about this, can we?"

He wanted to die.

It took him some time to come to that conclusion, but as the memories swirled and danced before his inner eyes, he finally realized that he would not be free of them again. Not at least for a very long time. Decades of his life had been uprooted and shoved to the fore, conscious and overwhelming, just as if he'd spent a week in Azkaban with the dementors

It had taken him months, after Dumbledore had gotten him out of Azkaban, back when the Dark Lord had fallen, before he had been able to consider himself even reasonably capable of any degree of Occlumency. If he needed it now, he would be unable to protect his mind. The rupture caused when they destroyed the Memory Charm was like a deep vein bleeding out the last of his sanity...

He wanted to die.

It would be very easy. He could take a draught, he could use his wand... His wand! His wand was there, right there, next to the bed, in the drawer. No one knew it was there...

He felt himself beginning to slip away. The room was getting darker. The memories of Lucius Malfoy in the graveyard, the pain of the Cruciatus Curses, the vilely used Imperius Curse, began to tumble over each other, shifting and joining together into a horrible warped memory of them all: the pain that Potter suffered at the Dark Lord's hands, the horror of realizing that something within him had risen up to try to stop Voldemort from harming the boy...

He wanted to die.

But the darkness was too strong, and it took him, for a while, where there was no pain.

* * *

Dumbledore had poured three mugs of butterbeer, had conjured sandwiches from the kitchen, and had lit a fire in his office fireplace. No one had spoken, either on the way back here or since they'd arrived. Minerva, he knew, had her own set of questions which he was not prepared to answer. And he hoped Orestes was not planning to reveal anything that they had just learned.

For himself, Dumbledore felt the echoes of the terrible events in his mind, in his bones. He had caught something of the pain Severus had endured, surely no more than a faint shadow of reality, but it was enough to unnerve him and leave him unsure of what to do next.

How to convince the Order, finally, that Severus had not only betrayed nothing, but that all that had happened to him had been precisely because no one in the Order was willing to trust him; he had had nothing to appease Voldemort with, no offering to prove that his fidelity had never wavered.

Voldemort had treated his "faithful servant" much as Lucius Malfoy had treated his house-elf, Dobby, with vindictive spite and a horrible thirst for inflicting pain. And Lucius Malfoy had been allowed to treat Severus...

That did not bear thinking about.

It left his Potions master, for now, in a limbo of distrust and suspicion. Voldemort would not be pacified until Severus brought him news from the Order; and the Order would not trust him until Dumbledore could prove that he had not already surrendered to the Dark Lord.

And what could he say to the members of the Order? What could he tell them of what he'd seen and felt, that would maintain some semblance of Severus' pride, yet convince them that he was no threat?

And then something occurred to him, a conclusion, perhaps, left over from some part of the journey they had just taken: the sense of total despair that had washed through Severus' mind at the end.

"I'm a fool!" he swore, and sprang from his seat. He approached the fireplace, grabbed Floo powder from the cauldron nearby, and tossed it into the fire. "Madam Pomfrey!"

It took almost a minute, then the woman's face appeared in the flames. "Yes, Headmaster?" Her voice, despite the fire, was frigid.

"Could you get Hagrid to watch Severus, please. I don't think - don't leave him unattended."

"Yes, sir." And with that curt reply, she disappeared.

"Albus?" Minerva started, finally breaking the silence among them. "What...?"

He turned and looked at her, then motioned to the sandwiches. "Eat something, Minerva. You too, Orestes."

Reluctantly, McGonagall reached for one of the sandwiches. Orestes did not. His gaze was fixed on nothing, staring into the room, perhaps revisiting what they had just found in Severus' memories.

"I think Severus must not be left alone for a while," Dumbledore said quietly, taking back his seat. He turned to Minerva. "You recall Barty Crouch telling us about the Memory Charm that was put on Bertha Jorkins?"

Orestes suddenly paid attention.

Minerva nodded and he saw some of the color leave her face. "It damaged her memory."

Dumbledore looked away, stared at the mug of butterbeer in front of him. "There was a very powerful Memory Charm put on Severus," he explained, carefully not saying who had put it there.

"If I remember correctly," Minerva continued, and Dumbledore knew that whatever she said would, in fact, be accurate, "Voldemort - tortured Bertha to break through the Charm."

He met her eyes and then looked quickly away. "We broke through it."

Could he, in fact, justify what he had just done as anything but torture? Certainly, it had been for the safety of the Order, for the life of Harry, for all they worked for. But it was, at its base, still not something he was sure he would ever be comfortable living with.

"It's what kept him from being able to give us any information about what had happened," Orestes added, his voice a monotone. "It's what he's been fighting that's kept him from talking."

Minerva looked from one to the other. It was Dumbledore who finally answered the questions she couldn't quite ask. "He betrayed nothing. He had nothing to offer Voldemort."

"He told us that earlier," Minerva reminded him. Her face was now regaining its color; in fact, it was becoming livid. "You didn't believe him."

"And we discussed that earlier, as well," he shot back. "We had to know. And - I think we had to break through the Memory Charm. I have no idea how else it might have affected him."

"Now that it's broken," Orestes added, "there's a great deal of damage."

Dumbledore listened to the self-justifying argument but he found no relief for his guilt in it. He drank some of the butterbeer, but his stomach was churning. Ghost-images from Severus' blocked memories were still whirling around his thoughts, like dementors loosed from Azkaban...

It was Minerva's voice that pulled him from the fractured memories. "So - what was the Memory Charm preventing us from knowing?"

Dumbledore looked at Orestes, who simply looked back at him. "Just - more torture."

Minerva balled her right hand into a fist, forgetting, apparently, that she had half a sandwich in that hand. As soon as she realized it, she put the crushed food back onto the tray.

"That's it? You did all this - we did all this, and all you learned was that he was - Albus!"

He looked at her, then squared his shoulders. There was a lot at stake right now; his guilt, his anger at himself, would have to wait.

"I've been trying to figure out what to tell the Order," he said. The change in topic apparently caught Orestes and Minerva off guard. "And I don't think there's anything more that I - or Orestes - can tell them to convince them that Severus has betrayed nothing. Except, of course, that we know what happened when he was Imperiused - and I have no intention of telling them what that was."

"Then - you're going to stop using him?" Minerva demanded. "You do that and the next time Severus is Summoned, he won't come back. You know that."

"I did not say that," Dumbledore said wearily and took off his spectacles. "I said I don't think I can convince the Order. As a whole. But Sirius and Remus are - well, mostly everyone else follows their suggestions or opinions. I doubt that I could say anything to Sirius to change his mind: he certainly seems no more eager than Severus to work even on a continuing truce. But - I think I might be able to convince Remus. And he might convince Sirius.

"I had planned to ask him to visit anyway, if you recall," he added. "I think talking to him here would be more effective than trying to find a time to discuss this at Headquarters."

"I hope you aren't thinking of putting them in the same room together. At least - not with wands!"

Albus wasn't sure if she were joking, but she had a valid point. "I'm just going to talk to Remus. I'll see what happens after that. For now..." He sighed and put his spectacles back on. "I for one need some rest."

The other two took that hint and got up. Minerva managed a kind look and asked, "Are you alright, Albus?"

He smiled. "Fine." Then he turned to the Healer. "Orestes, I'll see you in the morning? Early?"

The old man nodded but looked a little puzzled.

"I think it's time that you stopped being an interrogator. Severus is need of healing."

Orestes squinted at him, then nodded. "We'll discuss that tomorrow," he agreed, but it sounded to Dumbledore as if the man weren't willing to continue.

He had no energy left to worry about it. He barely had the energy to wait until they had both left before he put out the fire, Vanished the food, and went to his bedchamber.

He did not think, as he lay in the bed, that he would be able to sleep.

Unfortunately, he did, and his mind tormented him with scattered, fragmented images from the Riddle family cemetery until the first sliver of dawn broke through.

* * *

He was sleepy. But he couldn't let Madam Pomfrey down. Dumbledore had told him he wasn't ready for Hagrid to return to his task for the Order just yet. So he'd told the nurse that she should let him know any time she needed him. And she had just indicated that she needed him.

He took an old book, The Future of the Centaur: Divining the Days to Come, and brought it with him. Having just recently had a brief encounter with Firenze, he thought it wouldn't hurt to read up on his people. Well, Beasts, actually, was how they had chosen to be regarded. Hagrid himself disagreed with that choice, but...

He called Fang, and together they went up to the castle and made their way back to the hospital wing. There he found Madam Pomfrey glowering from a safe distance at Professor Snape. The professor, for his part, seemed unaware of her, or, for several minutes, of Hagrid, either. His eyes were open, but he was staring blankly into space, from what Hagrid could see.

"How are ye, Professor?" he tried, not sure whether it was safe - or a good idea - to try to engage the man in conversation. Poppy immediately gave him the answer.

"Don't try talking to him, Hagrid. He's not responding to anything except my attempts to help him. And as you can see," she said, gesturing to the floor around the bed and the trail of various liquids that seeped around the floor, "those attempts have not been appreciated."

Hagrid's eyes opened wide at the mess on the floor; it didn't seem like Snape to throw things. He'd always managed to convey his displeasure verbally or, even more, just by staring.

"I still have -" She paused and turned to Snape and said very loudly, "One more dosage of his medicine, and you'd think he'd be pleased to get a good night's sleep if he'll just take it!"

None of her words seemed to penetrate Severus' mind, though. His fixed stare continued; he didn't even blink. His arms were crossed over his chest and the rather short hospital pajama sleeve was pulled up high enough to show the bottom half of the faded Dark Mark on his left arm.

Despite himself, Hagrid shivered at the sight.

"Here," Madam Pomfrey said, handing a small glass of - something - to him. "Why don't you try."

He didn't think that was a good idea. Not at all. So he said so.

"He's not angry with you, Hagrid, at least not that I can tell." She moved cautiously closer until she could leer at her patient. "Professor Snape," she said, "Hagrid is here. He's going to help me. Are you listening?" There was no response, so she continued. "This is a Dreamless Sleep Draught. Please take it. You need the rest. And so do I!"

Hagrid watched the Potions master for a few seconds, but there was no change. Carefully, slowly, he moved the glass close enough for Severus to take it.

"Get out!"

Madam Pomfrey took in a deep breath and her chest heaved up and then down and she said, "Fine! Don't take it. You deserve every nightmare you get tonight!" And with that, she took the glass from Hagrid and stormed off.

"Uh, Professor? Madam Pomfrey - she asked me ter - well, ter come sit wi' ye for a bit. - That'll be okay, won't it?" At his feet, Fang had already made himself comfortable.

Severus finally turned his eyes to look at Hagrid. There was neither acceptance nor rejection in the gaze, not that Hagrid could see, so he figured it would be alright to stay. He asked Madam Pomfrey for the overstuffed chair he'd had before and, once it had been put into position, he settled in and opened his book and tried to ignore the creepy look in Snape's eyes.

Half an hour or so later, Madam Pomfrey came back. She took a quick look at her patient, who hadn't moved or looked at him since he'd sat down. "Are you alright if I get a couple hours' sleep?" she asked Hagrid.

"Oh, no problem at all. You go get some rest, I know ye need it." And then he thought that sounded wrong, but before he could correct himself, the nurse had gone.

"Well, Professor," he said, "it's jus' you and me."

The night crept along. Hagrid was almost at the third chapter of the book when he became aware of the professor's eyes on him. He looked up over the book.

"Ye needin' somethin', Professor?"

Snape cleared his throat and asked, "Water?"

"Oh, sure, course. Hold on a minute." He crossed the room in five strides, got a pitcher of fresh water and an empty glass, and came right back. "Here ye are, Professor. Nice an' cold, too."

Snape was breathing heavily, as if he'd just tried to exert himself, maybe tried to get out of bed. Hagrid poured him a glass of the water, then set the pitcher aside on the small cabinet. The top drawer was cracked open, and he pushed it closed.

Severus drained the glass and held it out for him to take.

"Needin' any more, Professor?"

"No."

Hagrid wondered in passing if it would have killed him to say 'thank you'. Then, remembering that, even though there were no wounds visible, he was still here because he wasn't well. Magical creature, he thought to himself, and went back to reading his book.

* * * July 11, 1995, mid-day

Albus Dumbledore Apparated just outside number twelve, Grimmauld Place. He had already alerted the inhabitants that he would be there, and so it took only one tap of his wand to open the front door. As it shut behind him, he made out the sound of highly animated voices coming from the meeting room at the end of the hallway. Remus and Sirius were apparently disagreeing over something.

He knocked on the half-closed door and stepped into the dimly lit room in which sat a long table around which several people were seated. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black sat next to each other, but from the rosy color of Black's face, he could be sure that he'd interrupted an argument.

"Good day, everyone."

Several voices returned the greeting and Tonks pulled another chair up to the table next to him. "Wotcher, Professor! Join us?"

He smiled and shook his head. "I can't stay long," he explained. "But I have some good news to relate." He paused until he had everyone's attention. "The Healer Orestes and I have both verified without question that Professor Snape has not leaked any information to Voldemort." He ignored the several faces that winced at the name.

"Does that mean you got him to talk, or -" Sirius didn't finish the question. They all knew the means he and Orestes had been using to determine what had happened during Severus' absence for two days.

"It means just what I said. Severus did not betray us, even unwillingly. Voldemort got no information from him." He paused, considering whether he ought to bring up the next point with the gathering, or stick to his plan to discuss it with Lupin first.

Tonks and Remus exchanged a few quiet words, as did Molly and Arthur Weasley and Kingsley and Alastor. The conversations didn't last long. Sirius, who had done no more than listen to the others, turned back to Dumbledore.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to let us talk to Snape ourselves?"

That was exactly what he didn't want. "I'd prefer not just yet. - He needs rest."

Sirius snorted. "Rest? He's been doing nothing but rest for almost a week, while we've been out here working -"

"Sirius, this is a conversation I'll have with you at another time." He saw Harry's godfather's face turn almost purple with anger. He ignored it. He could worry about smoothing people's feelings later. "All I need to know is whether you will give a vote of confidence and allow him to do what he's been preparing to do for thirteen years."

"Play with the Death Eaters," Sirius murmured, not very quietly.

Dumbledore looked around the table and saw several dissatisfied expressions.

"It isn't that we don't trust you," Arthur Weasley said, glancing around the table. "But - well, it still comes down to a question of - of faith, really. Isn't there some concrete information you can give us, or some reason we should be convinced?"

He considered the question and the several possible answers to it. Then he shook his head. "I cannot."

Sirius shrugged and put up his hands. "Then I don't think there's any change from your last report on him, Dumbledore. You can't ask every one of us to trust a Death Eater who's spent two days in the company of You-Know-Who and made it back alive. I don't see that we can take that risk."

Dumbledore nodded; it was no more than he had honestly expected. "Very well. For now, I must leave you. Remus, could I have a word with you?"

Looking startled, the former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher glanced at the others, then got up and followed Dumbledore down the hall toward the front door.

"I would like to take advantage of your offer to help me re-set the charms around Hogwarts. Are you still free?"

Lupin laughed with a hint of bitterness. "Well, certainly. No one has hired me for any work."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I am - sorry about that."

The werewolf smirked, but it didn't exactly reach his eyes. "Something else I can thank Severus for."

He couldn't refute that. At the end of Lupin's year teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Severus had let slip to some of the students that their instructor was a werewolf. The students' parents were not amused.

"Can you come today? Now?" Dumbledore asked. "There are some other things I'd like to discuss with you as well." He glanced back to the meeting room: the door was still open and those who were facing it were watching his and Lupin's exchange with undisguised curiosity.

"Of course. Let me pack a few things?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll wait here."

Lupin climbed the stairs and while he went to collect what he would need for his brief stay at the castle, Dumbledore went back to the meeting room. "Tonks, are you free for a few days?"

She faced him and shrugged. "I can be. What do you need?"

"I'm going to take Orestes' suggestion," he said, including everyone in his gaze, "and redo the protections around Hogwarts and its grounds. Remus has agreed to help me -"

"I'll come," Tonks agreed quickly. Her hair, as he watched it, turned bright pink for a few seconds, then went back to brown. She got up and walked past him.

"I'll get my stuff," she said, and she, too, disappeared upstairs.

They were only a couple minutes longer, and came down together, their trunks floating behind them, their brooms in hand. "We'll Apparate just outside the grounds on the north side," he told them.

"Dumbledore!" Sirius came running up to them as they started out the door. "I - is Snape going to recover?"

Dumbledore examined the man carefully through his spectacles. "What would be your preference?"

Sirius looked startled. Then, after a moment's thought, he said, "Committal to St. Mungo's. I'm sorry for what he's been through, I can - understand some of it." He shivered a bit. "But I will never trust him."

Dumbledore nodded. "I should be back with another report in a few days. Be careful, all of you."

Outside, he, Remus, and Tonks Disapparated.

* * * July 11, 1995, late afternoon

It seemed to take hours before Hagrid finally accepted Severus' pretension that he was asleep. And when he did, he listened and heard the man get up and walk away from the bed. He risked opening one eye partway and saw him head to the bathroom.

Excellent. He figured he had two or three minutes; that would be more than enough.

He pulled his wand out from under his pillow. He had decided on the quick and uncomplicated Avada Kedavra, a fitting memorial to the only person he had ever knowingly killed as a Death Eater.

For some reason, though, when his eyes were opened, the visions the Dark Lord had planted in his brain swirled more strongly, taking shape with haunting accuracy. Voldemort torturing Potter, feeling it, feeding those feelings to him...

"You see, my faithful servant, I can touch him. I can sense him..."

He hesitated, his wand already pointing at his chest. He didn't know if Dumbledore had picked up on this information. He didn't know how much the Headmaster had sensed or understood, though he knew it was enough to have had a serious impact on him.

But he had to make sure. He had to tell Dumbledore that the Dark Lord's connection to Potter had changed, had become much more dangerous. He had to...

He would tell Hagrid. He would make sure Hagrid left to tell Dumbledore. He had to make sure Hagrid didn't get confused; his was not the sharpest mind at Hogwarts.

Even as he made his plan, he heard Dumbledore's haunting voice: "Help me protect Lily's son."

He shut his eyes against the memory of that night. When he opened them, he received a shock: Dumbledore was standing at the foot of the bed, wand raised.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, and Severus' wand flew out of his hand, over his head, and dropped to the floor between the wall and headboard. "Where is Hagrid?" Dumbledore demanded, his eyes flaming in anger. "Where did he go, Severus?"

He glared right back at the headmaster. "Aren't you - supposed to be - in London?" It was still hard to speak. Spasms engulfed his stomach and arms.

He felt almost unbearable despair. Dumbledore would never leave him alone, now.

The Headmaster worked to get his breath together. "It didn't take me long," he finally said. He moved closer and waved his wand toward the floor beneath the bed. "Accio wand!" The stick flew to his hand. Severus watched but didn't even try to reach for it: that would only have made things worse.

Dumbledore pocketed the wand, not asking how he'd gotten it. He stared at him in silence for nearly a minute and Severus met his gaze with a fury at least equal to what he saw etched in the wrinkles of Dumbledore's face.

"I have - something I must attend to," he finally said. "And I'm going to have a word with Madam Pomfrey and another with Hagrid. I'll talk with you later."

He turned and stalked away, and Severus saw Hagrid leaving the bathroom and being stopped by Dumbledore. Whatever he said, it was too low for him to hear. He saw Hagrid glance at him with an appalled look on his face, then he nodded several times and Dumbledore moved away.

"Professor!" Hagrid began, once he was close enough to be heard without raising his voice.

"Spare me," Severus ordered.

Hagrid's face took on a kind of sadness that only made things worse. He turned away and listened to the distant sounds of Dumbledore and Pomfrey talking toward the end of the ward.

Seconds later, Dumbledore left and Madam Pomfrey returned to his side. She had a vial of some potion in her hand. "I am to tell you," she began brusquely, "that it is the Headmaster's desire - or order, if that helps - that you take this Sleeping Draught. Now!"

He sneered. "If I'm supposed to be impressed, you have both failed. Leave!"

"This is my ward!"

He nodded, and started to rise. "Then I'll leave."

Pomfrey shot Hagrid a quick glance and the overgrown fool grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back on the bed.

"Professor, yer no' goin' anywheres tonight. Dumbledore's orders.!"

"Accio restraints!" Pomfrey called.

"No!" he shouted. Once more the thick, padded wrist and ankle restraints appeared but the nurse stopped the advance of the magical bindings with a wave of her hand.

"Then take the draught!"

He finally surrendered to the fact that he had no real choice in the matter. If she bound him, she'd simply pour the potion down his throat anyway. At least, if he took it himself, he could salvage a shred of dignity.

He took the potion, swallowed it all at once, and handed the bottle back.

He was furious with Dumbledore, but as the sleeping potion began to warm his body and numb his mind, he realized that he still needed to tell Dumbledore about the Dark Lord's link with Potter.

He opened his mouth to tell Pomfrey that he had to speak to Dumbledore before he fell asleep.

And that was all he remembered.

* * *

Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks were still where Dumbledore had left them, in his office, examining old drawings of the castle and grounds. Some of prints had notations to indicate, in a coded fashion, what sort of charms or spells had been placed in various locations for the protection of all who were there.

They looked up when he came back. "I think if we rearrange some of the spells," Lupin began, "but still use some of the same ones, we should have a good defense."

Dumbledore nodded distractedly. "Remus, I need to discuss something with you," he said. He glanced at Tonks. "I don't mean to be rude," he added, "but - this is a private matter."

She shrugged and rolled up the parchment they'd been studying. "I'll get lunch," she said with great equanimity. "Anything for you two?"

"Whatever's there," Remus answered, his brow already furrowing as he tried to guess Dumbledore's intentions.

Once she had left, Dumbledore closed the door and gestured Remus to the chair near his fireplace, while he took the other.

"I have a conundrum," he began, and a thin smile appeared on Lupin's face.

"And I'm the one you chose to help solve it?" he asked with irony.

"Yes. I know I'll never be able to change Sirius' mind about Severus. But - it's my impression that you don't hold that same - intense - hatred that he has."

"And Severus has," Lupin added. Then nodded. "No, I don't. I don't even dislike Severus, to be honest. But he's not easy to like."

"True." Dumbledore smiled faintly. "It's my hope, however, that - if I can reveal to you a little more than I would be comfortable having the entire Order know, you might be more disposed toward convincing Sirius. And - then the others."

Lupin tilted his head: Dumbledore was so used to seeing his face marred with scratches that he hadn't noticed until then that some of them were much deeper than usual. "I suppose. They only take their lead from us because, well, Sirius and I know Severus best."

"You do not know Severus!" A flame of anger flared in Dumbledore's chest. "Neither of you knows him at all! You know his worst parts but none of his best. You've never looked for that." He took a breath and realized he'd leveled this same accusation at Severus, regarding Harry. "I'll grant you, the same is undoubtedly true of Severus."

Lupin was obviously taken aback by that, but not for long. "I've made more than one attempt to make peace with him," he said quietly. There was anger hiding behind the voice. He swallowed what were obviously going to be details he decided he wouldn't share. "He refuses my apologies.

"On the other hand, I'm quite aware that he voluntarily made my Wolfsbane potion when I taught here. It takes a good deal of time and it's difficult to brew, and it isn't as if he had more than one werewolf to make it for."

Dumbledore nodded.

"He never said a word about how much work it took, how much of his time he had to spend. He brought it to me in my classroom one day, to make sure I didn't forget, I suppose. And that, you see, is a part of him I do know," Lupin explained, leaning forward in his chair for a second, then back, in a familiar rocking-type gesture. "He doesn't crave fame or power, he certainly doesn't like attention. I know that once he commits to doing something, he sticks it out no matter how he feels about it. He thought I was helping Sirius get into the castle, and yet he never once drugged my tonic or made it any less than perfect."

"He takes pride in his work," Dumbledore added.

"On the other hand," Remus continued.

"You've run out of hands," Dumbledore commented. Remus ignored him.

"It was Severus who had me removed from teaching here."

"Because he was convinced you were a threat. Remember, he was not a witness to all that transpired between you and Sirius and Peter Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack. He was conveniently knocked unconscious, and Sirius was still a fugitive once he came to. For quite some time, I know he was honestly convinced you'd Confunded Harry and Ron and Hermione into believing Sirius was innocent. There is a part of Severus that takes great care to ensure the safety of chil- the students."

Remus pondered that for a moment. "Well, all that's past. What is it you think is going to change our minds now?"

"I want your promise, first, that nothing I tell you - and I'm only going to give you the broadest outline - that you will never repeat this information to anyone. Especially not to Sirius."

Lupin rubbed the area around one of his scratches. "I don't think I can make that promise. I have no idea what you intend to tell me, and I - no, I can't promise that."

Dumbledore wasn't sure if he were more angry or more desperate. But Remus filled the silence before he could think of a rejoinder. "Perhaps - I'll promise that I won't reveal this unless - unless I feel I must. And - if that happens, I'll let you know. Beforehand." He cocked his head. "Will that suffice?"

"It will have to," Dumbledore answered. He sat back in his chair, but that didn't feel right. He leaned forward. "The two days Severus was with Voldemort, he was - tortured because Voldemort was angry. Severus had convinced him at his first reunion, right after Harry returned from the cemetery, that he was and always had been loyal."

"And therein lies the tale," Lupin observed.

Dumbledore glanced away. "When Voldemort summoned him this time, he was supposed to have had something to offer him. He'd asked me to trust him, but until we knew... Well, he arrived empty-handed and was severely punished."

Lupin nodded, not apparently moved by the information. "That doesn't convince me of anything."

"Wait," Dumbledore ordered, putting his hand up. "What Orestes and I could not verify was whether or not Voldemort had pulled any information from Severus that could damage us."

"Like knowledge of all the spells around the castle," Lupin pointed out, waving his hand in a vague circle in the air. "And - you've said you finally satisfied yourselves that he didn't."

"The problem we had was finding the memories of those two days. We did, eventually, at - some cost. But then we came up to another barrier. In addition to having had the Cruciatus used on him, in addition to having his mind violated by Voldemort, he was also Imperiused. I needed to know what he did while he was under the curse. But that was protected by a very strong Memory Spell."

Lupin pulled his brows together and rubbed the side of his face. "So, even he wasn't supposed to remember - what he did?" He shook his head. "That sounds very bad, Dumbledore."

"Yes, it does. But Orestes and I managed to break through the spell." He took a long breath, and realized he couldn't keep his seat any longer. He needed to pace. "What happened..." He stared at his rug. "You remember Lucius Malfoy?"

"Hard to forget. Son seems to take after him."

"He was here five years before the lot of you arrived. He was Prefect of Slytherin House under Professor Slughorn."

"Well, I never had any dealings him. How does this -"

"Just listen! Your first year here, Malfoy and his cronies had a kind of - initiation that they forced first and some second year students to go through. It was particularly vile."

Lupin shrugged. "Severus had a lot of magic already under his belt when he came here. I'm sure he was able to defend himself. "

"Oh, yes, he was. He also chose to defend all the other students who were in danger. And as I'm sure you can understand, that earned him Malfoy's anger."

Lupin dropped his own gaze. "I always thought they were friends. They seemed to hang around a lot together."

"They were not friends. As I now know, Severus 'hung around' with him to keep an eye on him, to keep him from hurting the other boys. He got his reputation for being a sneak from Malfoy's close friends."

Remus smiled. "And from us!"

"And he eagerly practiced his jinxes and hexes on them."

Lupin smiled even more. "And on us."

"However, Lucius seems to be able to manipulate even those he doesn't like into doing things for him. He was instrumental in converting Severus to Voldemort's service, though I can't imagine what he offered to make Severus change."

"Well, we've ruled out power and glory," Remus agreed. "Anyway, what does any of this have to do with the present situation?"

Dumbledore hesitated: had he already said more than he needed to? "Lucius was there - in the cemetery."

"Yes, I know, Harry told us."

Dumbledore shook his head. "When Voldemort summoned him this last time, Lucius was there. And - after Voldemort had done all he'd planned to do, when Severus was too weakened to resist anything, he was Imperiused by Voldemort and - given to Lucius - who finally had the vengeance he'd waited twenty years for."

"But why?" Remus began. "I thought You-Know-Who trusted Severus. Still thought he was loyal. Why let another Death Eater torture him?"

"I've told you. He arrived empty-handed! Voldemort was satisfied with Lucius' loyalty: he, apparently, had something to offer. So Voldemort rewarded Lucius and punished Severus for having nothing to give."

"And Voldemort put a Memory Spell on him - to keep him from remembering? That doesn't make sense to me."

"Actually, Lucius put the spell on him. Think about it. What use would there be if Severus recalled what Malfoy had done? The Death Eaters often work together. Malfoy had to preserve that. He couldn't risk Severus denouncing Lucius to the Ministry, even though they're not likely believe Severus. Not that I can imagine anything that would make Severus reveal what happened."

He watched and saw Remus trying to imagine what, in fact, Lucius could have done...

"It had nothing to do with our security," Dumbledore cut in quickly, not wanting to answer any questions about it. "At no point did he give anything away; and he was well aware that his punishment, the torture, would stop if he did. Despite the ravaging of his mind, he still was able to block certain things from Voldemort's knowledge. Such as his true loyalty."

Lupin stared into his eyes for a few seconds, then rubbed a palm across his head; there were two fresh scratches there. "Are you saying that - that his mind is stronger - than Voldemort's? That he can actually fool him?"

Dumbledore nodded.

Remus chuckled dryly. "I wouldn't tell that to the rest of the group," he suggested. "They're afraid enough of him as it is."

Dumbledore said nothing for a while; he watched Remus sort through his new information, try to accept the very different view of what had happened. It was nothing like what they had thought happened.

"Do you think - that without giving away too much - you could convince Sirius?"

Lupin rubbed his hands back and forth along the armrests. "I'll take a shot." He looked up. "Have you wondered, Dumbledore, how I've managed this last year during my monthly transformations?"

"I assumed you found someone who was making the potion for you."

Lupin nodded. "I haven't been without the Wolfsbane potion for even one month since I left Hogwarts. But - I haven't found someone else to make it for me."

It took Dumbledore about a second to understand, and he felt his eyebrows rise toward his hairline. "Severus...?"

Remus nodded. "He actually volunteered just before I left. He refuses to let me pay him for it, either. I've let others believe that I found someone else. But - even though I looked, I couldn't find anyone who was willing to keep a steady supply on hand for me, even when I found one person who seemed to know how to brew it.

"And - I'm counting on you not to reveal that I told you that."

Dumbledore nodded, his thoughts traveling backward. "That is another characteristic of Severus' that almost no one knows, Remus. When he does something quite decent, he forbids those involved from telling anyone. - He keeps the best parts of himself a secret."