Spies Wolves and Scars

Chapter 3: An eerie evening

Dreading yet another Occlumency session with his favourite teacher, Professor Snape, a gloomy Harry Potter dragged his feet all the way down through the dungeon corridors.

From the first day of the new school year, Dumbledore - for reasons unknown - had been resolutely determined that Snape should continue to instruct Harry. The headmaster began to realise he had underestimated the mutual loathing, however, when four long months later, his polite, eye twinkling negotiations were still ending in deadly silences, and stubborn hostility. It was only then, that he needed to resort to a means more sympathetic to the situation. Or was that Slytherin?

Calling them both to his office one morning after Christmas, he literally let blue sparks fly, and warned both of them that if they didn't continue with the lessons, he would insist in a staff meeting that the Potion Master take on an apprentice every weekend of the next year.

Even patient, wise, twinkly, lemon-drop loving wizards can only stand so much.

Harry was still pretty shell-shocked from last July, though, when his O.W.L results letter arrived when he was at the Weasleys. It had congratulated him not only for his 'O' for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but also for his 'O' in Potions.

'Wow! But also...gutted,' Ron had gasped, his face showing a mixed look of admiration and complete horror when he had told him. He had then owled Hermione, and she seemed convinced that Dumbledore must have had something to do with it.

Harry agreed with her, because Snape had made his feelings about it known all too clearly from the first day of term. Ron had even watched Snape out of the corner of his eye during the Sorting Ceremony, and he was sure he had given Harry at least twelve, 'I-hate-you-Potter,' death glares.

Not only did this mean more of the Potion Master's torture, but it also meant less Ron. He had not got a high enough grade. Not that Ron was at all sorry. He had leapt around the house whooping excitedly, sending Pigwidgeon into yet another mad, twittering frenzy, until Mrs Weasley had screamed at him, of course, and shooed the owl outside.

In the very first Occlumency session, on a chill, bleak January evening over two months ago now, Snape had been unusually short of sarcastic remarks, but the frequency of murderous looks more than compensated for them. The icy glare he had given Harry as he sealed the pensieve in his storeroom in particular had made his skin creep all over. Snape actually hadn't managed to frighten him for years, but he was succeeding now.

Like the year five lessons, these ones were also slow going, as Snape's new iciness was proving as much a discouragement as his temper. Harry was managing to block Snape's intrusion more often, but he had only managed to completely reverse the spell once, and only very briefly. He had managed to see just one more memory, before the Professor had sent him crashing into the shelves again.

'And what reward for all the effort?' Harry thought, shivering. If he had half a choice, he would have preferred, 'Five points from Gryffindor!' This memory of Snape's seemed different from the others, and had actually been haunting him quite badly that week.

He felt himself lying on the floor in a very gloomy room. He could only just make out the silhouettes of two other people. One silhouette seemed to be slowly creeping up behind the other. Then the memory would go black, and a sound, which froze every one of Harry's nerves with a thrill of pure terror, would fill his head.

It was like a Crucio scream, but longer, and it was all the more chilling, because it stopped, very suddenly...

As the hairs on the back of his neck began to stick on end, Harry tried to squash the memory back again. It was quickly replaced by amusing mental images of Ravenclaw's recent April fool prank on Snape. Harry smirked, he would have liked to have seen that, (maybe when he could master this mind reading) and especially Snape with bits of confetti in his hair.

But it was hardly wise to walk in Snape's office looking amused, so Harry squashed that thought as well, and with a straight face he rapped on the door.

'Enter,' came the usual voice. Harry pulled up the catch and the door creaked open.

'Hello Harry!' said a familiar voice through the gloom. Harry did a double take.

Remus Lupin was relaxed on the spare chair in Snape's office. He held a cup and saucer in his hand. Snape sat calmly his side of the desk, idly twisting a quill in his pale fingers. When the Potions' Master saw the priceless look on the Gryffindor's face, he couldn't hold back a nasty smirk. This was even more fun than taking points off the boy.

'Ah...Potter,' he said coolly, 'I was just telling Remus here how lazy you are when it comes to learning Occlumency...'

'Harry,' added Lupin gently, setting down his cup, 'you really must make these sessions a priority of yours.'

Harry seemed lost for words. His green eyes travelled from the smirking Snape to the serious looking Lupin. Having a cup of tea with Snape? It had to be the Imperious.

'The only type of curse at work in this room, Potter, is one of the blood,' Snape sneered coldly, as Harry's stare pierced suspiciously into him.

'Severus,' interjected Lupin, sending a frown in his direction. He turned his eyes to Harry, who was still staring accusingly at Snape. 'I am sorry to tell you, Harry, but that was a truthful comment.' This time Harry looked at Lupin as if he had been betrayed.

'If someone attempted to control me by curse, the wolf in me would rise up and win,' Lupin explained firmly.

'But...' Harry wasn't sure if this knowledge made him feel any better. Lupin smiled apologetically at him.

Harry couldn't guess the cause of the odd glittering, which had appeared in Snape's black eyes.

'I'm much grieved that nobody told you, Potter,' he said smoothly, 'that your ability to throw off mind control may well mean that there is something...wrong... with your blood...'

Lupin gave Snape a wry smile. 'Thank goodness you never became a healer, Severus, your bedside manner would hardly encourage optimism.'

'Luckily for the patients, you know, Remus, the circumstances of my birth immediately ruled out that particular career choice.'

'Remus?' thought Harry wildly. "What happened to, 'The Werewolf?"

Harry began to think about his blood. He didn't like Snape's new joke. Having Voldemort messing with your mind was bad enough! Both adults, Harry noticed, were watching him with curiosity, Snape still twisting the feather, and smiling very oddly.

It made him think of the creepy feeling he always got in the Forbidden Forest. Unnerved, Harry made a mental note to tell Hermione about it when he got back to the common room.

'Enough idle chit-chat!' sneered the Potions Master, standing suddenly. Remus moved his chair into a corner as Snape put down the quill and picked up his wand. 'Wand out, Potter.'

Snape saw Harry glance oddly at the spectator.

'Ah...' he smirked, raising an eyebrow. 'Mr. Lupin will be staying here as moral support.'

Harry crossed nervously to the centre of the room. 'Whose moral support?' he wondered, feeling a chill run through him as Snape raised his wand.

'Something wrong with your blood? What's that supposed to mean!' said Ron disbelievingly. 'You don't believe that rubbish, do you Harry?' Ron slapped his friend encouragingly on the back. 'Don't worry, mate - it came from Greasy Git's mouth!'

'Yeah, but Lupin agreed with him,' said Harry, stabbing moodily at his peas. It was dinner in the Great Hall, and there was a raucous confusion of chatter, and much scraping of cutlery on plates.

Hermione looked up suddenly. 'Lupin?'

'Yes, Lupin!' replied Harry irritably. 'He was in Snape's office, having a cup of tea, with him.'

Ron stared. 'Has he gone mad?'

'That would be my theory, since he said mind control doesn't work on him,' said Harry, hacking at a lamb chop with his knife.

'What!' Exclaimed Ron, tipping pumpkin juice down himself.

Hermione looked at them contemptuously.

'If you two had done that werewolf essay back in year three you would have known that already,' Hermione sighed. 'The Imperious curse can only control humans. As werewolves are not completely human, the curse will only anger the wolf and make them transform.'

'So, I must have something wrong with my blood, too,' said Harry bitterly.

Ron's eyes widened. He dropped his fork.

'Blimey Harry, when Moody - er - Crouch did that curse on you in year three! But I didn't see you growing fur!'

Harry suddenly felt sick.

Hermione frowned, 'Don't be stupid, Ron!' she snapped. 'It's obvious Harry hasn't got werewolf blood!'

Harry felt both relieved, and alarmed at the same time. He wasn't a wolf, but he wasn't completely human. He pushed his plate aside; he couldn't bring himself to eat one more mouthful.

'So what am I, if I'm not completely human?' Harry asked quietly, dreading the answer.

'That's the awkward bit, Harry,' said Hermione. 'You must somehow be carrying a type of blood curse. But...as you don't change into anything under the Imperious-' She faltered, and stared at her plate.

'Well?' said Ron expectantly.

'There's one potion you could take to find out, but it would be too risky, as the antidote is almost impossible to get hold of. So - er,' Hermione shrugged looking annoyed with herself. 'I'm afraid I don't know!'

Ron spilt more pumpkin juice on himself. Hermione didn't know?

There was an awkward silence, Harry avoided their glances, and stared up at the high table. Dumbledore was talking to McGonagall, Snape was looking out of the window. Sat next to him was the Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, Professor Brown, a middle-aged woman with wavy, brown hair.

Incredibly this professor had so far turned out to be the most 'normal' one to be appointed to the position since Harry had been at Hogwarts. She was intelligent, fair, and professional. And as far as everyone could remember, Snape had not sneered at her once. Ron had laughed that it was probably because she had never tried to arrest, attack, or eat him.

'Or hang him upside down,' thought Harry grimly.

The others had finished their dinner, and the puddings had appeared. By the sound of cackling, and several smashes at the other end of the hall Peeves was trying to beat his juggling record of twelve teacups, and a coffee pot.

Harry tried to avoid looking at the huge bowl of raspberry ripple ice cream and wafers next to him. Blood Curse? Even the smell of Ron's chocolate sponge made him feel queasy.

'So, Hermione, do you have any idea what Lupin would be doing in Snape's office?' he muttered.

'Well,' She mused. 'Snape could have got over his grudge...'

'Never!' exclaimed Ron suddenly. 'More like Snape's controlling him with extra special werewolf potion. He might be training him to attack non Slytherin students-'

'Ron! Honestly! They're both in the Order. Maybe they are working together on something.'

'Yeah,' muttered Harry. 'Working on what other things they can find wrong with me. They really gave me the creeps in there...'

Hermione sniffed. 'That's just daft. I just think you're angry because Lupin has been talking to him behind your back. Well, if they are working together - of course they have to talk to each other!'

Ron shot an indignant look at her, his mouth full of cake.

'Oghyehr?'

'Yeah, actually!' Hermione snapped.

Harry sighed. What was the point in arguing with them anymore?