Shack

My breath was taken away with that one name--Evans. What does Lily Evans have to do with this? My mind reeled through the possibilities.

"Why did you think Lily had gone into the Whomping Willow?" I forced myself to maintain as quiet and calm a voice as I could.

"He told her to go."

Severus was trying to shake off the grogginess. My time was limited.

"Is that why you entered?"

"She'd've been killed." His breathing hitched and he shook violently.

Madam Pomfrey rushed forward with a cup of cocoa. The witch rested one hip against the bed and muttered reassuring words to Severus. One of her deft hands eased the warm, rich liquid to his lips and tilted some of the stuff into his mouth. He mewed in pleasure and leaned closer to the witch. A young wizard I didn't recognize reclined against the pillows.

Was this boy actually seeking comfort? Was this really the same boy who'd wildly hex other students? Was this the same boy who seemed to have few friends? Questions. I had so many questions boiling up within me.

To Severus' credit, Professor Slughorn had told me that the teenager worked well with Lily in his class. Their school records illustrated that they were remarkably good Potions students. Yet while Severus was technically the superior artist and a member of his Potions professor's house, Slughorn instead raved with endless enthusiasm about the Gryffindor's talents. That betrayal had to sting the boy.

Suddenly the question I'd failed to ask popped into my head. I hoped Severus hadn't regained his senses yet.

"Who told you Lily had gone in there?"

Cocoa lining his lips, he said, "Black."

"Sirius Black told you that Miss Evans had entered the Whomping Willow?"

My incredulity obviously shook Severus. His face darkened like the wick on a lantern flickering out.

"Did Sirius Black really tell you that?" I demanded to know.

Silence.

"Severus...?"

"Headmaster, Mr. Snape needs to rest." The school matron physically inserted herself between us. She pushed me from the room and shut the door in my face.

Returning to my office, I stood beside Fawkes for some time. My hand rhythmically stroked his fiery red feathers.

My mind was greatly unsettled by the evening's events. The clock struck the second hour before physical tiredness finally won out.

Sitting behind my desk, I rested my elbows on the chair arms and closed my eyes.

It was some hours later when I felt a tapping on my shoulder that I realized sleep must have overcome me.

Minerva, worry on her face, was looking down at me. The witch's hands were clasped before her. "It is nearly sunrise, Albus. Would you like me go with you?"

Sparing a quick look at the clock, I saw that it was six forty-seven. Sunrise, which would drive the beast back into human form, was only a few minutes away.

"Alas, I think Remus would be upset to have two unexpected guests appear. Why don't we walk while Poppy attends to him? I will visit him once he has had a chance to recover," I said, stretching my cramped limbs.

The woman across from me looked dreadful. Her hair, usually carefully twisted up, was escaping its pins. There was tightness in her closely pressed lips. Her night had been no easier than mine.

I took the deputy headmistress' elbow in my hand and walked slowly to the stairs. We rode the curving granite steps as they spiralled down to the corridor below. Our walk was measured as we paced to the main staircase.

"What about James and Sirius' classes?"

"They, as well as Remus and Severus, will be missing them today."

"But..."

"I will determine whether they'll be permitted to make up the missed classes once we have puzzled this out," I said crisply.

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to argue the point.

"No!" My anger continued to simmer. "I only want to determine what really happened."

Ahead of us, we saw Madam Pomfrey trot down the stairs and pass through the doors. Minerva and I followed the matron out into the early morning light. The grass was heavy with hoarfrost and crunched underneath our feet.

We took different paths; Poppy walked to the Whomping Willow while we walked toward the lake. As the air and water temperatures grow colder in late autumn, the Giant Squid retreats to the warmer depths of the loch, leaving the surface calm and untouched. Both Minerva and I enjoyed the quiet peace of the morning hour after the previous evening's tumultuous event.

"Shall we?" Minerva asked, indicating a stone promontory.

I nodded my agreement. Together, we climbed to sit on the ledge overlooking the still, dark waters. Our legs dangled over the outcropping. The sun is slow to warm the earth at this time of year, and our breath puffed like dragons' breath into the cold air as we sat like silent sentinels beside the lake.

My mind slowly worked through the jumbled events of last evening. A night's sleep had restored my ability to formulate and arrange the many small details which had escaped me earlier.

In his human form Remus was not a danger, but as a werewolf, was he too difficult to contain? Should I allow a lycanthrope to continue his education at Hogwarts? Would the public be better served in having him schooled at home?

Was offering Remus the opportunity to live a normal childhood worth the risk of endangering the other students' lives? It seemed like a lifetime ago that I had decided it was worth the risk. I wasn't as certain anymore.

At the time, a plan had been set in place to keep the young scholar confined during that lunar phase. The Whomping Willow was transplanted and a tunnel dug to the Shrieking Shack.

It really hadn't required a great deal of suggestion to make the school and townspeople believe an unfriendly being inhabited the structure. The hereto unheard sounds echoing through the vicinity kept the curious away. Or so it had thought.

Of course Remus Lupin's friends eventually figured out why their soft-spoken room-mate missed lessons with some regularity. Certainly Severus Snape wouldn't have been far behind in seeing a pattern in the absences, too.

The Slytherin's fascination for the Dark Arts would have helped him recognise the inherent clues which would have led him to identify Remus as a lycanthrope. He was too good a student in Defence not to realize the danger, yet he'd entered the tunnel all the same.

I can acknowledge how easily the Slytherin can be taunted into reacting; he falls to James and Sirius' baiting with astonishing constancy. His overreaction to their attacks is what causes him to stand before my desk with regularity.

Snape would undoubtedly have recovered his prickly attitude after a night's sleep. There would be no more straight answers to be had from the teenager, of that I was sure. He would be out for blood. He might even have a valid point this time.

My thoughts wandered to the group of Gryffindors who had been the Slytherin's enemies since his first year. I have held great hope for James; there has been no wavering in his opinion of the Dark Arts. He sees the issue as a matter of black and white. Sadly, this means that he puts people into neat cubby-holes, most especially Slytherins and most particularly Severus Snape.

James often has led the attacks upon the solitary Slytherin. It is the one fault I find in his character, the difficulty in seeing beyond his initial preconceptions. I've wondered if he would have befriended Remus that first day if he had known what he was.

Sirius has always been too hot-headed for his own good. Too often he leaps into action without thinking through the consequences. When he had been Sorted into Gryffindor, I had hoped that he, coming from an old Slytherin family, might have proved to be an effective fighter against the rising tide of Dark wizards. Perhaps I had been too hasty in my hopes. Charming though he is, there is an untameable streak to his personality.

Peter Pettigrew has always been a hanger-on. He really doesn't seem to form his own ideas, but rather chooses to accept those of others. Pettigrew is an opportunist, seeking out the strongest to form an alliance with. For the present, those are Potter and Black.

The chimes marking the beginning of breakfast coincided with the rumbling of my stomach. Minerva leapt nimbly from the granite outcropping and waited for me to shimmy my way to the ground.

We walked into the Great Hall. The ceiling reflected the day outside. A low sun lazily pushed its rays across the vaulted ceiling. Breakfast was lacklustre. Nothing appealed to me, and I found myself pushing my oatmeal around in the bowl. I hoped the day would improve upon lumpy porridge.

The chimes sounded again, announcing the start of the academic day. Students and staff were slow to leave the Great Hall. Minerva herded the slower students from the room and out into the Entrance Hall.

Minutes later I found myself at my desk, sorting through a pile of scrolls that never seemed to diminish. There are times I suspect the scrolls replace themselves as I move them from one basket to another.

The statue at the entrance to my office alerted me that someone was coming up. I eagerly pushed the scrolls aside, grateful for any interruption.

The door swung open, revealing a pokerfaced Madam Pomfrey.

"How is Mr. Lupin?" I asked.

"He doesn't seem to have suffered unduly from last night's events," she replied.

"And Mr. Snape?"

"He appears to have recovered his wits. He has refused to take any of the potions I've offered to alleviate the residual aches and pains."

When my brows rose she added, "He is suspicious of taking potions made by people he doesn't trust."

"I'll be up shortly to speak with Mr. Snape. Will Mr. Lupin be capable of a meeting around lunchtime?" I asked.

"Yes." Unlike many of the staff, Madam Pomfrey can be remarkably succinct in her answers.

As I watched her leave my office, I thought about the witch. Many students think of her as abrupt and impersonal in her care of them, when it really is quite the opposite. Poppy is one of the most generous persons I know; she cares deeply about her charges and is as protective of them as a queen dragon watching over her brood. Her Ravenclaw past comes to the forefront in her duties; she is passionate in seeking out new cures for the ills of our student and staff population.

After working through several more scrolls, I walked down to Madam Pomfrey's domain. The witch acknowledged my presence and waved me over to Severus' room.

I knocked on the door jamb as a courtesy. The messy, black-haired boy turned as I pushed the door open. His face grew first watchful before settling on hostile.

"How are you this morning, Mr. Snape?"

"As well as could be expected for someone nearly killed and eaten by a werewolf," he spat sarcastically.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Then it was lucky that James went after you."

It was immediately evident that I had said the wrong thing. His eyes hardened into anthracite, and he could barely restrain the anger simmering beneath the surface.

"Why did you disobey school rules and enter the Whomping Willow? I have stated, quite clearly, at the beginning of every term that it is forbidden to approach the tree," I said.

"I knew you'd blame me. You always blame me!" His bitter glare bored into me accusingly.

"I'd like to think I could be open-minded, if you wanted to talk."

He snorted in disbelief. There was no softening of his expression. Clearly the teenager did not believe I would listen to him. From his perspective he had a point: our previous interactions had been nothing less than unpleasant for him.

"You mentioned something last evening about someone entering the tunnel ahead of you," I said cautiously. "You were very concerned about that person. If you had reason to believe someone else had gone into the Whomping Willow, then I must say, it was a very brave act on your part to go after them."

His black eyebrows rose slightly in surprise before he tightly wrapped his emotions behind a barrier of suspicion again.

"If you believed someone was in danger and went in to try and save them, you wouldn't be punished. I would see that you were rewarded for your act of selflessness."

One long, potion-stained finger rose to slowly trace his lips. I imagine his mind was quickly working through the problem, fearful I was going to trap him. It was clear to me that he didn't want to put himself in a vulnerable position by admitting to anything.

"I know you find it hard to believe, but I do want to know, from your perspective, what happened last evening."

The greasy-haired head bowed for several minutes, and I could see a slight tremor in those long-fingered hands.

"Did Sirius tell you that someone had entered the Whomping Willow?"

"They tried to kill me," he hissed, spitting his fury. The skinny body coiled snake-like. "They were all in on it!"

"Then why would James go after you?"

"He was just trying to save himself!" His sallow face coloured unpleasantly. Spittle flew from his mouth as he screeched at me.

I contained my annoyance at his teenage resentments and asked, "Why did you think Miss Evans had entered the Whomping Willow?"

"He lied to me--again!"

Severus' eyes betrayed his hurt and humiliation. What could I say to him? Yes, he lied to you, and you fell for it again? I wasn't certain if they'd all been in on the prank--no, not a prank but possibly a criminal action.

"I don't want to leave Hogwarts," he added in a rush of emotion. He was one of the few students who genuinely liked to learn; he drove some of his professors to wits' end with his constant barrage of questions.

The shock of his outburst surprised us both. Then, just as quickly, I could see that the teenager had begun to close himself off after speaking his heart.

"We'll talk again, Mr. Snape," I said disconcertedly as I exited the room to mull over what he'd said.

The book that was Severus Snape had opened a bit and then slammed back shut. He fully expected me to send him down; that he thought that upset me more than I would have imagined. My opinion had always been that the boy was as cold as a block of ice, yet his actions last night and the words he'd just spoken had changed my view of him. Severus Snape would require more examination.

Poppy stood outside her office, her hands clasped neatly before her crisp white apron as she examined me.

"Would you like to speak with Remus?" she asked with a face devoid of expression.

Nodding, I followed her to a room opposite her office. Pushing open the door, the witch preceded me into the darkened room.

"Mr. Lupin, the Headmaster has come for a brief"--her expression relayed that she meant brief--"visit."

I stepped over to the young Gryffindor's bed and sat in the chair beside it. I waited for the school matron to leave the room.

"How are you feeling, Remus?"

He looked up at me happily. "My shoulders are a bit sore, and I have some terrific bruises on them. But other than that I'm well!"

I cleared my throat. "I wanted to speak with you about that."

"Oh?"

"Are you aware of the reason for your discomfort?"

"N-no..." he replied slowly.

"I must tell you that something unexpected occurred at the Whomping Willow last evening."