The Master Plan

Chapter 39: A Werewolf's Secret Told

Harry awoke to the feeling of long fingers gently sliding up and down his back. It was lovely--so lovely--to wake here, next to Severus, feeling safe and warm and wanted. And to be touched. He had hardly ever been touched with anything resembling affection before--certainly the Dursleys never bothered--and he'd never had anyone else in his life who might have done so until he was eleven. Even then, it wasn't like there were hugs and rampant snuggling after he found out he was a wizard. Ron would have been grossed out, and though Hermione had given him the occasional peck on the cheek, she was Ron's girlfriend, and always careful to walk the line. Remus tried hard, but he had his own barriers against touching--it was probably a werewolf thing, knowing that the people around him would likely be uncomfortable--so he didn't do it often. Sirius was the only one Harry remembered actively wanting to be that close to him--slapping him on the shoulder, slinging an arm around him--but he had come and gone from Harry's life so quickly that he hardly had time to make a dent in Harry's need to be loved.

The fingers on his back were doing figure eights, and Harry adored it. It dawned on the youth that Severus had doubtlessly grown up in similar circumstances, and was as affection-starved as he himself was. His heart ached a little at that, and he suddenly flipped over onto his other side, catching the man's lips in a searing kiss. Trapping Severus's face with his hands, he kissed the man several times on the nose. "I wuv you," Harry told him in his squeakiest voice, and Severus rolled his eyes.

"I like you better when you're asleep," he grumbled in reply. "You're far less noisy and annoying." Harry laughed. "Harry..." Severus said, and the boy felt his heart clench up. Gravity time again, then. "You do know that we can't continue to do this, don't you? I do lo...I...enj...am not wholly exasperated with your presence," he continued, "but we are risking a very great deal when we do this--and the world simply isn't ours to risk. Do you understand what I am trying to say to you?"

Harry had never seen the man's face so gentle before, and his heart felt as though it would shatter from tenderness and loss and desire. He nodded. "I'm much better at closing my memories off," he said, "But you're right. When you're in love, it's awfully hard to hide how you feel. It's just too powerful, and it's always there. And I don't want to risk you. I don't want to be the reason Voldemort discovers what you're doing."

Severus, abruptly pale, jerked out of Harry's arms and began dressing hurriedly.

"What--? Sev...are you all right? What's the matter? Did I say something wrong?" Harry's heart was pounding in his chest. The Potions Master wasn't angry, was he? Why?

Severus carefully kept his face turned from the boy. This had gone too far. And in one thing, at least, Dumbledore was correct--if this kept up, he would only break the boy's heart. "Nothing is wrong. I'm not at all upset," he lied through gritted teeth. "I merely have things to do for the Order for the next few days, and I must begin preparing. I may not be back for several nights." He turned to the teen. "I'll expect you to behave, for once in your irresponsible life, while I'm away." He stared at Harry, and Harry could see the anxiety the man was trying to mask in those glittering black eyes.

"Yes," he whispered. "I'll be careful. I will." Severus looked slightly relieved and bent to give the boy one last, fleeting kiss before leaving.

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Harry saw Severus in Potions, but the man did not look him in the eye, and seemed extremely ill at ease. Harry wasn't certain what was wrong, or why Severus wouldn't discuss it with him, but since Draco had died so recently, everyone else was chalking the man's behaviour up to grief. Harry, himself, couldn't fathom Snape's conduct.

Harry felt grief as well, and was weighted down by substantial feelings of guilt. Severus could say anything he liked about Voldemort's intentions, but it had still been Harry's thoughtless actions that led to the other boy's death. A lot of the time, he merely felt numb, with an odd undercurrent of stomach twisting unhappiness that he couldn't seem to shake.

He'd see Draco's empty seat and flinch. He'd pass a bewildered looking Crabbe or Goyle in the hall, and have the urge to say something, to confess his involvement and relieve the burden on his soul. What kept him from doing so was mostly the knowledge that neither one of them could begin to appreciate what he meant, and hearing it would not alleviate their sorrow. He began seeing them flanking Blaise as he patrolled the halls, speaking quietly to whatever Slytherins crossed his path. It made Harry feel slightly better to see them with him--they seemed a little less lost when they were with Blaise, and moved with more purpose. He hoped Blaise wouldn't screw them over the way he did everyone else.

He told Ron and Hermione what had happened, suffering through their scolding afterward. He had to nod through a half hour of 'Harry, that was really dangerous, do you even grasp how dangerous it was, you're lucky you didn't end up in his place, you must be more careful in the future,' dictated by Hermione, and then a half hour of 'Oh, my God, you have to be joking, please tell me you're joking, are you trying to give me a stroke, Jesus, Harry, you have the worst taste in guys!' from Ron.

Of course, eventually they calmed down, especially since it was obvious that he already felt horrible, and there was nothing to be done now in any case. Hermione sat with her arm around his shoulder for a long time, telling him it wasn't his fault; it just wasn't a very bright thing to do. Ron nodded agreement and offered him a couple of chocolate frogs, and proceeded to try to distract him with a lengthy game of chess when he began to look mopey. Harry was glad when they finally backed off about the situation; he had more than enough on his mind without their haranguing.

Neither one of them brought up the subject of Harry's sleeping arrangements. Hermione smiled a little too knowingly whenever Harry mentioned Snape. Ron just told Harry flat out, "I don't know if you're doing anything with him, but if you are, please don't ever, ever tell me about it, because I'll have to saw my own ears off afterward." No one else asked Harry about it, either; Ron had told the other boys in the dorm that Harry was suffering nightmares again, and had to be isolated for everyone's well being. Not that it mattered; he'd come to a taciturn agreement with the Potions Master that as long as Voldemort was still around and Snape was spying on him, there would be no further late night trysts in the man's chambers. It hurt to be away from the man, but he knew it would hurt even more, if he lost him forever because of a careless memory.

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Tuesday evening, he knew something was wrong. He couldn't quite explain it, but there was a current of tension in the air that had been streaming through the castle all day. Teachers had been short-tempered and snappish, and Snape had been conspicuously absent. Until supper, that is, when he flitted through the Great Hall and went straight to Dumbledore and hissed something in the man's ear. The headmaster immediately stood and followed Severus out, and Harry pushed his plate away, feeling a stone forming in his stomach.

He mumbled an excuse to his friends and got up from the table, following the path the men had taken a few moments ago. When he reached the stone gargoyle, he knocked on the door a few times before Severus opened it, looking agitated. His hair was mussed, his eyes were wild, and he did not look the least bit pleased to see Harry. "Come in," he finally grudgingly admitted the boy. "Albus wishes to speak to you."

Harry squared his shoulders before entering the room. He knew Sev would say it was arrogance, but he had known from the start that this involved him, somehow. Bad things almost always did. He was like a lightning rod for misfortune. Dumbledore regarded him grimly for a long moment after he walked in before saying, "Harry, I'm afraid I have ill news. It may come as something of a shock."

Harry sighed wearily. "I can't imagine anything would, but go ahead. You'd think I'd be used to this sort of thing by now, but it never gets any easier. Is someone dead? Is that it? Is someone about to die? God, don't make me guess," he finally pleaded. Severus put a strong hand on his shoulder, and he felt obscurely calmed by it.

"No, Harry," Dumbledore was saying, shaking his silvery head. "No one is dead; not yet. I am afraid, though, that Remus Lupin is in very serious trouble, and I...I cannot promise you his safe return," he told the boy sadly.

Harry was shocked, his eyes springing wide and his heart thudding uncomfortably hard in his chest. Remus? But he was the last one--Harry's only link to his parents, to Sirius, to the people who loved him! He couldn't lose Remus. Dazed, he hardly noticed when the headmaster conjured a chair for him to sink down onto. He felt himself trembling, and lowered his face into his hands. "What happened? Where is he? Is there anything I can do?" he asked in a muffled voice.

Having his head down, he missed the sharp look Snape directed at the headmaster, only hearing the old wizard's fatigued sigh. "He took the Dark Mark," Dumbledore told him, and Harry's head shot up in disbelief. "He volunteered to be a...second contact within the Death Eaters. It has been known for some time that Voldemort was aggressively recruiting dark creatures, and Remus believed he would have a good chance at successfully infiltrating their ranks. We thought he would be valuable to them, as a known member of the Order. He had hoped they would be influenced by the fact that he was in a position to work so closely amongst their enemies."

"That's disgusting," Harry replied in a quiet voice, and Severus trembled a little at the words. "You shouldn't have made him do that."

"He was not forced," Albus sighed. "Nor was it even suggested to him. This was something he decided on his own," he added gently.

"THEN YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE LET HIM DO IT!" Harry shouted. "How could you let him do something like that? He's the only person I have left that's like family, and you let him volunteer to be a loathsome, murdering Death Eater, just to get some crummy information? What the hell is wrong with you? You let him go out and c--curse and k--kill people and do God knows what else those twisted fucks do?" Harry's voice was rising in pitch, and he was stuttering in anxiety at times, so upset that he did not notice Severus had retreated to the corner, where he was shivering violently. "What happened to him?" Harry demanded, his voice tight.

"We aren't entirely certain," Dumbledore responded. "Severus has not been able to find him since he took the Mark. We believe he is in danger, but our enquiries have been fruitless. It is likely they were not fooled by his declarations of loyalty to Voldemort, and only planned on deceiving him until he had no further opportunity to turn back. We will continue doing our best to find him, but...I felt you deserved to be informed."

"I DESERVED to be INFORMED before you fucking let him DO it!" Harry roared. "How the hell could you do this to me? To him?"

Albus's eyes wandered over to the Potions Master. "I was advised against it," he admitted.

Harry turned to stare at Snape. "You knew about this?" he whispered. "You KNEW about this, and you never bloody TOLD me? You just let him MARCH OFF to his fucking DEATH and you didn't say a THING? I trusted you, you bastard!"

Severus was very pale. "...Harry, I was unable to con--"

"You can SHUT THE HELL UP! You didn't tell me then, and you think I'm gonna listen to it now?" He stood shakily and looked at Albus. "You can tell me if you think there's something I can do, or if you've got him back. Beyond that, I don't want to hear anything from either of you," he said quietly through clenched teeth, and strode out the door, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Albus..." Severus said weakly.

"What?" Albus said, unconcerned. "He'll get over it. I blame hormones." He gave the man a cunning look over the top of his glasses. "You'd better see if you can find anything else out." Snape just looked at him. "Trust me, would you?"

Looking as though it were against his better judgment, the Potions Master nodded slowly, before heading back out to take the much-despised roll of spy up again. He would find Lupin. He had to.

Dumbledore sighed and sat back in his chair. A voice came from behind him. "Dumbledore?" Phineas Nigellus said. "I've just been in the North Tower, having a cup of tea...I heard the most interesting prediction. Would you like to hear?"

Dumbledore looked up at the previous headmaster, who wore a vengeful little smile. "Oh? Do tell," he replied.

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Harry spent much of the next day feeling heartsick, although he attended classes to, as Hermione proposed, 'take his mind off things,' and 'maybe learn something while awaiting developments.' He even read, or tried to read, during breaks. He even forced himself to take notes. Think of something else, Harry. Think of something else...

'Charms that affect the arrangement of linear events, such as the Sistere Spell, and Infectum Reddere, often have time restrictions which result from the inherent inertia of the...'

He felt horrible for having yelled at Severus. This wasn't the man's fault. Doubtlessly he had not encouraged Lupin to do such a stupid thing. Why had Lupin thought they needed another spy?

Because soon Severus isn't going to be able to be successful at it anymore, a little voice in the back of his head replied. Severus has had two years to bring Voldemort your head on a stick, and hasn't managed it. They're getting suspicious. He isn't going to last much longer--especially if they start picking out the little 'sweet feelings' he has for a certain Potter. Harry forced his eyes to focus on the text in front of him, fighting off the chill that had invaded his bones...

'These time limits vary from object to object and spell to spell, but a safe estimate is generally one hour, as this is the standard...'

He could NOT keep his mind on this, even if it WAS about the spell in the cuff link Severus had given him for Christmas. Severus. He's fine, he told himself sternly. No reason to imagine otherwise. He's fine, he's fine, he's fine.

By the time everyone gathered for supper in the Great Hall again, no one had seen the Potions Master since the day before. Harry tried to convince himself that everything was all right; Severus had merely gone out to spy again--it was hardly surprising, under the circumstances. Still, a foreboding weight had settled in his chest, and his mind was a whirling storm of fears and questions. If he could only leave well enough alone--if only he'd stayed away from Severus in the very beginning, if only he'd spoken with Remus first--had a chance to discuss things, if only he'd apologized to both of them--for his behaviour, for making them feel they had to take such risks to keep him from doing the same, if only, if only.

Everyone was under some kind of strain; Seamus and Jack had been fighting, and looked to be breaking up--Harry hoped Blaise wasn't in some way behind it, but wasn't hopeful, and Crookshanks had been sick, making Hermione tetchy and nervous, the Slytherins were still in mourning over Draco, and of course the faculty that were also part of the Order of the Phoenix were all worried about Remus. The combined pressures made the entire school feel like a powder keg in the midst of a lighting storm. Harry kept waiting for the inevitable flash of light that would bring the noise and explosion and pain to them all.

That night he suffered terrible nightmares. Occlumency was no help fighting them--they weren't something sent by Voldemort, just products of his own guilt-ridden mind. He started out in the cemetery where Cedric had died. Voldemort stood before him, and opened his mouth, Harry knew, to say, 'Kill the spare,' but then it wasn't Voldemort, but Dumbledore, who said, 'It was his choice.' And there was a flash of green light, and Harry leaped to save Cedric, but it wasn't Cedric at all, but Draco Malfoy who lie dead at Harry's feet. And then Draco--dead Draco, with lifeless eyes and chilled skin--looked up at Harry and said, 'You're not doing a very good job at protecting us, Savior.'

Harry woke up in a panicked sweat, but after tossing and turning a while, he rested his head on his pillow again, and the moment he closed his eyes he fell into another ghastly dream. It was dark here, so dark, with just an edge of blue light outlining every object, and Harry was lost in a maze of corridors with sinister looking doors. He tried the handle of one, then another, then another, but they were all locked. He heard dry, rasping laughter, and looked over his shoulder to see Bellatrix Lestrange pointing her wand at him, but before she could say anything, everything shifted, and they were in the Department of Mysteries, and Harry was surrounded by veiled doorways.

There was a scream, and he turned to see Hermione falling through a veil, but before he could even move toward her, a motion to his right made him look round, and he saw Neville do the same; until every where he looked, someone he cared about was tumbling through a veil of death, and he was helpless to stop it. Meanwhile, Bellatrix Lestrange stood in the center of the room, laughing and laughing and laughing. And then she turned into Sirius, who stared at Harry with haunted eyes, and held out cupped hands, full of shining alphabet letters.

"You mustn't waste them," his godfather told him earnestly. "Quickly, quickly, quickly, Harry! You haven't much time, and these are so important!" He opened his hands, letting the sharp letters fall through his fingers, pouring onto the floor. They were tearing his palms and finger pads as they fell, leaving streams of dripping blood. Harry was horrified, but Sirius just shook his head sadly, saying, "It's the ones that you don't use that hurt the most."

His godfather reached out to him, and Harry never felt so conflicted before; he wanted so badly to touch and be touched, but it was Sirius's pain he'd be touched by, Sirius's blood and agony, and he didn't know if he could take it.

He sat up in bed, gasping, and saw that everyone else in the room was still asleep. Right, then. He'd just get up and sit in the window for a while. That would keep him awake, and he'd just have to think about other things until morning came. He purposely sat down by the light of the nearly full moon without a blanket of any kind--the cold would only help serve his purpose tonight.

It made no difference. With a strip of white light across his face, he soon slipped again into an uneasy sleep. He found himself walking down a dusty road, and there was too-bright sunlight in his eyes. He was wearing filthy robes, and his feet were bare; he could feel every pebble and rut in the road. He felt someone tugging at his sleeve and looked down. There was a man crawling by his side, saying, "Please forgive me, please save me, please heal me, please."

Harry didn't know what to do; he hadn't really studied any healing magic, and couldn't see anything wrong with the man. Before he could say anything at all, there was another supplicating voice, and then another, and he was surrounded by people, all begging him for something. He was frightened and overwhelmed, and saw a tall black silhouette from the corner of his eye. He turned, relieved, to see Severus, and made his way toward the man, seeking his comforting presence. But when he came before the Potions Master, the man fell to his knees with the rest of the group. Harry was horror-struck when the man reached out in pleading, saying, "Save me, please save me; save us all." He realized what they must have thought he was, and he fell back, appalled.

Lupin dragged himself to the front of the crowd, bleeding and naked, and lifted up an arm--and arm with a skull and snake--and beseeched Harry to help him. Harry could only hold his hand, unable to think of a single useful spell. Then Remus changed into Severus again, who was chanting his name. Harry stared down into his eyes, eyes that were open like he'd never quite seen them before, eyes that were inundated with pain, betrayal, longing, envy, and shame. One of the man's long, elegant hands reached up to touch Harry's face, and the boy heard him whisper, "Harry, please...Harry...please forgive me..." He leaned down to press his lips to Severus's, but found himself being shaken awake by Ron. It was time to go to breakfast.

He dressed, feeling both traumatized and somehow vaguely comforted. It had been a horrendous night overall, but Snape was there at the end...and Snape had asked for something that Harry could give.

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That evening, the Potions Master stumbled into Hogwarts with Remus in his arms. The werewolf was unconscious, and bleeding from cuts on the head and on one of his legs. Harry rushed to the infirmary when he was informed, and made it in time to hear Madame Pomfrey tell the headmaster that Lupin should be fine--he'd likely taken a Stunning Spell to the head, and would sleep for several hours, at least. Apart from that and his leg, which she had mended easily, he seemed sound.

Harry surreptitiously gave Severus's hand a squeeze, and the man shot him a quick, tense half smile before turning back to Dumbledore, who promptly put a silencing charm around Remus's bedside. "I'm not sure what happened. I never even saw where they were keeping him. All I know is that I was returning to Malfoy Manor from a raid, and heard a commotion around the back," he explained. "I found Rookwood immobilized and head-first down a hole, and him," he gestured to Lupin, "barely coherent and lying on the ground, his leg nearly ripped to shreds. I think one of the stepping stones attacked him." Harry looked down at the werewolf, who was looking more peaceful than anyone who had gone through such an ordeal had a right to look.

"Did anyone see you?" Albus asked anxiously, and Harry felt angry. Wasn't it enough that Severus had risked so much already? When would it be enough? How could they continue to ask him to go back to that?

"No one," Severus replied dismissively. "They did not expect me back for another hour, and the grounds were otherwise empty. He must have escaped."

"And lucky thing, too," Harry remarked with relief. "Tonight's the full moon."

"Yes, although considering the swelling on his head, I greatly doubt he will awaken even through his transformation," Dumbledore added. "Well, I cannot express how it gladdens my heart to have him return alive." He gave Severus a long, calculating look. "Will you return, then?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Not with him," Severus said. Well, of course he wouldn't return with Lupin; that was just silly. Harry wondered why he even bothered to say it. Albus was biting his lip a little, and Severus assured him, "All will be well. As you are often so keen to point out, 'We are all of us exactly where we ought to be.'" His voice was slightly tinged by bitterness, but the headmaster did not seem to notice.

"Very well, then, my dear boy," he told the man heartily. "I am sure that if you hold on to that, it will all turn out right. In the meanwhile, I think I ought to be going and assisting Elphias with the modifications--having the two of you involved with other things has left the Order rather short handed, even if the Weasley boys have given us their most welcome assistance."

"Ah, yes, and any number of exploding armchairs and objects that turn into sock puppets, as well," Severus responded dryly.

"The laughter they induced was the very thing I meant," Dumbledore told him sternly. "You will contact me at headquarters if you need me? I should be there in...oh, an hour, or perhaps a little more."

"I think I shall be fine. Harry, why don't you keep an eye on Lupin?" Snape put forth. "Poppy is going to inject his potion directly into his bloodstream, and I'd like you to take notes on what, exactly, happens during the transformation. I have never had the opportunity to try the experiment myself--Lupin hates needles, and dislikes being a guinea pig for new developments--but these are the things we ought to be watching closely, if ever we wish to produce a cure for lycanthropy."

"You? You want to make a cure for lycanthropy?" Harry asked him, flabbergasted. "But you hate Lupin."

"I dislike him, which is not the same thing. Besides, had you ever been alone in a dark tunnel and come face to face with such a slavering monster, you, too, would have a compelling impetus never to want it to happen again," Severus responded.

"Some people would just avoid werewolves and dark tunnels in the future," Harry suggested.

"Yes, well, some people have no creative impulses and lack the drive to improve the world around them," Severus said loftily.

"I'm taking down the Silencing Spell now," Albus informed them. He bid them farewell, and left to speak with Elphias, his eyes glittering madly. It made both of the other wizards uncomfortable.

Harry and Severus stared at each other for a long while unspeaking. Severus uncertainly reached out to touch Harry's face, and the boy leaned into his hand, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry," they said together, and Harry's eyes popped open again. He laughed a little.

"Wait a minute, I get to go first. I'm sorry for blaming you for something you couldn't have prevented. I'm sorry for becoming so angry about the situation that I took it out on you." He looked around quickly, making certain Madame Pomfrey had still not returned, before adding, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I love you before you left, and that I made you feel like fixing this was your responsibility. I had horrible dreams all last night, and I think that was a big part of it." He thought back to Sirius, and the pain from the letters--the ones which should have formed words that were never said. He shook himself slightly. "And, by the way, I thought we agreed you weren't going to say that ever again. Right?"

"Yes, I recall now. Very well, I rescind my apology." He smiled a little. "I still should not have let such a thing happen--I let them both underestimate what they were dealing with, and it is my duty, as the only truly informed party, to make them understand. I failed to do that. I should also have kept you aware of the situation. I was...unwilling to upset you with the knowledge, and I did not feel you would have been able to change their minds. I should not have made the decision myself, though. And you needn't profess your undying devotion at every opportunity, you repugnant clown--I am more than well aware of your feelings. How could I not be, since you spout them almost as often as you breathe, like some sort of sappy, syrupy, awful, awful romantic drama?"

Harry just laughed in return. "Yeah, I know I don't have to say it. I just like to occasionally, okay? I know perfectly well that love doesn't need to be expressed for it to be real."

Severus's face softened and became more somber at the same time. "Harry, I want you to promise me that tonight you will not leave the castle."

"Why?" Harry demanded, instantly suspicious and frightened.

"Promise me, regardless of what you hear, you shall keep yourself safe, Harry. Please. It is all you can do for me. I need to return to the Manor and pretend to assist in the search for the escaped prisoner. Remember, I have many crafty tricks up my sleeve, and am capable of taking care of myself. So, will you please promise me you will stay here?"

Harry looked worried, but swallowed and nodded. "Can I come to you when it's all over?" he whispered.

Severus hesitated. "I do not believe that would be a very good idea..."

"Damn it, Severus--" Harry stopped, attempting to regain control. "All right; we'll do what you think is best. But God Almighty, Severus--you are going to have to learn to let down those walls. I can't tell if I'm in or not, but it doesn't feel like it when you push me away, and I'm telling you; it's cold out here, Sev--lonely and cold."

Severus's shoulders hunched a little and he refused to meet Harry's eyes. "...always have to bellyache over something...never met anyone so needy..." Harry heard him muttering, and rolled his eyes.

"Just be careful, all right? We'll talk about it when you get back."

"The anticipation is overwhelming," Severus responded sourly. "Watch the hairy encumbrance; I'll return when I can."

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It wasn't until almost three quarters of an hour later that Harry realized something was not right. In truth, there was no way he could have known before, because the moon had not risen before then. He was sitting next to Lupin, quill and scratch pad in hand, and watching the moon's rays crawl across the sheets when he realized that something was out of place. He'd been nervous to see Remus change--even in his sleep--but Poppy was nearby, and McGonagall as well, and both had assured him that having the potion injected shouldn't make any difference in his behaviour. Still, he was just slightly scared.

He was shifting in his seat, feeling edgy, when he noticed moonlight fell across the man's arm, and that's when it hit him: Lupin wasn't changing. Was it because he was unconscious? Was it due to one of the spells he was hit with? Was it all the result of having the Wolfsbane potion inserted directly into his bloodstream, whatever the witches said?

Then, Lupin's nose began to lengthen, and his muscles changed shape, and Harry began to relax. Maybe the potion just slowed the moonlight's effects, then. But wait; there wasn't enough hair, and the nose was...and the jaw...in fact, the whole face wasn't really... "Poppy?" he heard himself call in a shrill voice, and the nurse hurried over. "I don't think the potion's working right..."

She rolled the man onto his side so they could see him better, and they both gasped at what they saw. "Polyjuice," she whispered.

"Shit," Harry replied.

The man in the bed was not Remus Lupin.