Mather's Treaty

His long stride ate up the distance as he hurried to the far end of the huge corridor, toward a door that had peeling paint and a small tarnished brass plaque that read “Ministry Library and Reference”. A few heads poked out of offices to stare at him as he went, but Snape ignored them.

Snape raised his hand to knock on the door when he was stopped by the loud and forceful voice of the Head Minister, Cornelius Fudge. “Snape, what’s this about an attack on Hogsmeade?”

Snape grumbled under his breath and turned to face the bureaucrat. “I’m not sure, Minister,” he said in his raspy voice. “I am merely here to collect something for Dumbledore - “

“Dumbledore is the protector of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade!” thundered Fudge, ignoring Snape's attempts to placate. "He should have stopped this before it even happened!"

Snape could tell that the politician was working himself into a blustery storm of indignation and sought to quell it so he could get his errand accomplished. "Minister, the headmaster is indeed seeking to put a stop to whatever is going on. He sent me here for special materials to that end. If you keep detaining me, however, he will not get those materials and thus the attacks will continue."

Fudge opened his mouth to bluster some more but snapped it closed, glowering at Snape, who was unimpressed. "Inform him that the Ministry is sending aid to Hogsmeade and we will be evacuating those that wish to leave immediately." The bureaucrat emphasized the last word with a glare at Snape and then turned on his heels, charging back down the corridor and disappearing up a flight of stairs.

Snape puzzled over the need to evacuate Hogsmeade while he explained his errand to the Ministry archivist, who blanched at the idea of anyone needing the Malleus Maleficarum.

"Does Professor Dumbledore have any idea what he's going to do with the Witch's Hammer?" stammered the bookish wizard whose trembling hands were reaching into a small safe and bringing out a wooden box.

"I was not privy to that knowledge," Snape replied with growl. "I only follow orders."

The archivist handed Snape the box as if it were delicate porcelain and shoved his spectacles back up the bridge of his nose. "Tell Professor Dumbledore that this is the only original print copy known to exist that was personally handled by the authors. Its power is magnified when held by someone of magical ability. Many Muggles do not realize that words are often more powerful than any chanted spell merely by the processing of writing and publishing them." The timorous wizard gulped. "He must take special care when the box is opened and the book read. It was always more powerful than even it’s Muggle creators realized."

Snape nodded, clutching the box tightly so that it would not accidentally slip from his grip and fly open. He wanted nothing to do with the book and the mere idea of it being opened and read by any witch or wizard was enough to turn his stomach.

Moments later he apparated outside Hogsmeade and trekked through the shambled town. The aid that Fudge had promised was there already, helping clean up. Snape noted that there seemed to be very few residents packing to leave. He smiled grimly. The townsfolk of Hogsmeade were a sturdy bunch; it would take more than a night raid from some spook to scare them off.

He found Dumbledore and McGonagall both standing in the foyer of the castle. McGonagall’s face was gray and Dumbledore still looked shaken up.

Snape handed the box to the headmaster and wiped his palms on his robes as if to wipe away some contamination. "I was waylaid by Fudge," he rasped. "He is not happy about whatever happened last night and, as usual, you take the blame."

Dumbledore heaved a sigh. "He is correct, Severus, I am to blame." Watery blue eyes twinkled a moment at Snape's skeptical look. "Even I make mistakes, Severus," he continued. "Anything else?"

"The Ministry archivist bids us to take special care with that book," Snape grumbled. "I liked the part he mentioned about not opening it but I know you too well. I would therefore amend his instructions to opening it with strong protection spells and being very careful."

Dumbledore held the box out to his potions master again. "Minerva, the best man for this job is Severus Snape, wouldn't you agree?" McGonagall looked aghast for a moment and then reluctantly nodded.

Snape backed away. "I'm not opening that book," he said adamantly with a shake of his head.

The older wizard sighed. "Severus, the students left this morning for the summer break, thankfully. Only the teachers remain to fight this. I need your help. You are an unusual wizard, you know that. Your intelligence goes beyond even your extensive abilities; you think logically and many wizards and witches do not." He smiled briefly. "You above all of us can temporarily think like a Muggle."

Snape stiffened at the last sentence, grabbed the box and stomped away as he spoke. "There is no need to be insulting, Headmaster." He stopped at the stairwell entrance and turned. "What is it I'm looking for?"

"A way to use The Witch Hammer against Mather's Treaty, Severus. We cannot win through brute strength. We must trap this haunt with his own beliefs."

Snape and McGonagall both shuddered and the Potions Master disappeared around the bend. Dumbledore took note that Snape didn't even have to ask why he was fighting Mather's Treaty. There were some things that Severus seemed to instinctively understand. Dumbledore had long since stopped trying to figure out how Severus knew.

Remus lay in the infirmary bed, going over everything he’d said to Dumbledore, trying to think of more, remember more to help the man who so often helped him. When the werewolf opened his eyes to find both Dumbledore and McGonagall staring at him, ready to ask him questions about the night before, he’d been startled at the haggardness of Dumbledore’s features. Remus had known Dumbledore was at most 150 years old, but he’d never looked it before.

Dumbledore looked it now and that frightened Remus more than anything. Not even You-Know-Who brought about such an expression on Dumbledore’s face.

Remus played the evening over in his mind.

He’d gone through the change and vaguely recalled impressions of Harry, Ron and Hermione, three students of Gryffindor House who he counted as friends as well as former pupils. He also recalled feeling free; Dumbledore said that they had put him on a leash and taken him outside. He could recall snatches of being outdoors and sniffing outdoor smells.

Evil. He remembered sensing and smelling an evil. He had been immediately defensive. He remembered that he felt he had to protect the children. Had he attacked the creature that he’d sensed the evil from? Dumbledore said that he’d gone into the Forbidden Forest. That wasn’t unusual; Remus had been in the Forest many times before in wolf form without problems. What had he run into last night that was different?

With a sigh, Remus closed his eyes tight, shoving his human mind away and concentrating on the wolf senses that lay below the surface, waiting for the moon’s full light to bring them to the fore.

It wasn’t solid. Flashes of lunging and biting through a mist came to Remus and he frowned, trying to make a more concrete image in his mind. There was more, he could feel it. A face, a leering face, round and mad suddenly burst into his mind and he screamed, terrified by what he saw.

Madam Pomfrey came running in to find Remus struggling out of bed, his normally soft brown eyes hard and wild. He was clearly terrified.

“Sit!” she barked but he ignored her.

“I can remember what it looked like!” he panted frantically. “I need to tell the headmaster! I have to –“

Pomfrey shoved him back down. “I’ll go get him. You’ll stay here and rest!” she snapped, pulling the blankets up to his chin.

Remus struggled to keep the face in his mind so that he wouldn’t forget it as he waited on Dumbledore and Pomfrey. Dumbledore walked into the infirmary briskly and smiled reassuringly at his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

“Poppy tells me you remembered something new, Remus,” the older wizard said, using his nickname for the school nurse.

Remus nodded vigorously. “Yes, Professor. I can remember the face I saw.” Dumbledore’s eyes lit up and he held up a hand to halt Remus’ description. He called Pomfrey over and murmured at her. She nodded quickly and scurried away.

“Al right, Remus, I want you to take a deep breath and hold the image a few moment’s longer. I’ve called for Professor Vector. He can draw portraits, you know, and I want you to tell him exactly what you saw.”

Remus nodded, delving inside himself to keep the image fresh in his mind. The wolf’s impressions of the surroundings last night threatened to overwhelm him, but Remus kept them at bay. Professor Vector, a slim wizard who taught Arithmancy, hurried in with a pad of drawing paper and a handful of lead pencils.

“Now Remus, tell Vector what you saw.” As Remus described the face in his mind’s eye, Vector’s hands flew across the page, drawing what Remus spoke of. Occasionally, Vector would hold up his drawing to show him and make the necessary corrections from Remus’ observations. Soon, Remus was satisfied that Vector had captured as accurately possibly what Remus could see hovering in his mind.

Dumbledore took the black and white sketch, nodding to himself. “Excellent,” he murmured. “Very excellent.”

Vector smiled, unsure as to what the entire exercise was for, yet he knew that Dumbledore did nothing without a reason. “Glad to have been of service, Remus, Professor Dumbledore.”

“My dear Vector, if you could please assemble the other teachers in the staff room for an announcement it would be appreciated.” Dumbledore was still staring intently at the drawing. “I will be there shortly. I want you to gather all the ghosts, Peeves included, and have the paintings get the others together in the Potions classroom. Have them meet in Headmaster Hingleton’s study painting. It should be large enough for them all. I’ll speak with them as well.”

Vector gave a sharp nod. “Right away, Headmaster.”

Dumbledore looked back at Remus, who was watching him with wary brown eyes and no expression. “Ah Remus, this is excellent. Now I want you to follow Poppy’s instructions and rest. I may have further need of my former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the next few nights.” Dumbledore patted the other wizard’s arm and left him alone in the infirmary, Pomfrey following. She gave Remus an admonishing sentence about him staying put and quiet before closing the door behind her.

Remus had no problem with the command. He fell instantly asleep and dreamed of a wolf defending against a hatred more horrible than any the wolf had ever known.