Philomena

***Chocolate and Avada Kedavra***

Remus awoke with a start. He ran a hand through his hair and stifled a yawn. Sitting up lazily, he struggled to his feet and realized confusedly that he was still dressed, though his boots had been removed.

Philomena must have woken earlier and tucked him in, he thought dazedly, feeling quite embarrassed. "S'posed to go the other way around," he said to himself, as he pulled his boots back on. "I'm supposed to take care of her."

Jumping off the sofa he looked around for her. He noticed the light on in the kitchen, and stumbled towards it. Quietly, he opened the door. He leaned on the doorframe and watched her with amusement. She had apparently found his supply of Anti-Dementor Chocolate and was making short work of it.

"Hello," he finally said.

She started and spun around in her chair. Realizing it was Remus she relaxed slightly.

He smiled wanly at her. "Thanks for tucking me in," he said. "And I see you've found my chocolate stash."

She blushed in embarrassment. Looking down she realized that she had eaten far more than she'd thought. "I... I was hungry," she said apologetically.

"It's all right," said Remus. "I wasn't saving it for anything."

"I'm sorry for acting the way I did," she said. "I shouldn't have cried like that."

Remus walked into the kitchen and sat opposite her. "I didn't mind," he said. "I was so worried... are you all right now?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry for wasting your day," she apologized.

Remus shrugged, and took a chocolate bar.

She shifted uncomfortably. "I have to tell you something," she said at last.

Remus looked up, and waited for her to continue.

"I... I'm not twelve," she said quickly. "I'm eighteen. Ralf had me Spelled. For the blood, you know. I should have told you before, but I was afraid that if you knew... "

Remus swallowed. "I thought as much," he said, "but supposed that he'd modified your memory, after having you in suspended animation for years."

She sighed. "I don't know exactly what he did," she said. "He refused to remove the Spells when he sent me here. I... I was wondering if... if you could reverse them."

He frowned. "I'd have to know how the Spells worked," he said slowly. "There might not even be a Counterspell, in which case it might take anywhere between days and years before I'm able to find a solution."

"It was a combination of things," she said. "A potion, and some spells."

"I'll have to know what incantations he used," said Remus. "What wand movements... as for the potions, maybe if we ask Severus he'll be able to do something. Frankly, I have been looking for age freezing Spells, but I haven't been able to find anything as yet. He might have created it himself, or had somebody else do so for him."

She wrinkled her brow in thought. "There were several, and they usually cast them right after I'd been bled. They recast them every year, but I don't remember anything except a lot of yellow light."

Remus grabbed a pencil from his pocket and scribbled the information on a discarded chocolate wrapper. "Wand moments?" he asked. "Can you remember anything about them? Were they abrupt, or more structured?"

"I couldn't see," she replied glumly. "They always got me in the back. Bloody cowards."

"Language, young lady," reproved Remus mildly.

She glared at him. Remus suppressed a smile.

The Wards blared out at just that moment. Remus stood and peered out the window. A figure was hurrying towards the house, head bent against the icy wind.

"Your Wards are very elaborate," she commented.

The smoke arose and swirled into words:

Recognized: The Enigma. Armed: Wand. Emotion: No Reading Available.

Remus dispelled it and went to open the door. Snape stood there, wrapped tight in his cloak. He swayed in place for a moment, before falling forward into the room. Remus caught him and pulled him in, slamming the door behind him.

Severus shook Remus off and sank into the nearest chair. "Blast it, Remus," he snapped, "must your Antiapparition Ward go so far?"

Remus raised his eyebrows and took in a sight he never thought he'd see. Snape was sitting in his kitchen, sneaking a chocolate bar, his hair and cloak dusted with snow.

"Your quite welcome to the chocolate, Snape," said Remus, flinging himself back into his chair. "Eat up."

Snape shot him a glare that would have withered an oak tree and took a large bite out of Honeyduke's Finest.

"Good evening, Mr. Snape," said Philomena softly. "Would you like me to make you some tea? You must be chilled through."

Snape noticed her for the first time and raised a snowy eyebrow at her. "That would be very nice of you, Ms. Lupin," he said quietly.

She nodded, and busied herself at the stove. Remus decided he might as well eat his chocolate before it was gone and took another bar. "Evening, Snape," he said, unwrapping it. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"To my checking that your daughter hasn't had a negative reaction to the Potion, of course, and your welcome, Lupin," answered Snape. "How long did she sleep?"

"Until five, or so," answered Philomena, "give or take a moment in which I started to cry like a baby about a Vision."

"Yes, you would tend to be a bit on edge for several hours after waking," mused Severus. "Did the voracious appetite assert itself as well?"

"Of course," said Remus. "Did you think I normally had Honeyduke's Finest for dinner?"

Snape was about to remark that he had no idea what a Werewolf normally had for dinner, and that he couldn't have known who'd eaten all of the chocolate, but Philomena spoke first.

"You're covered in blue flames, Mr. Snape," she said filling the teapot. "You've so many more than my father."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I was wondering whether the Pulses would manifest themselves visually to you," he said. "I wasn't sure."

"Should I catch one?" she asked turning towards him.

Snape seemed to be considering something. "No," he said finally. "I'd rather you didn't. I'm sure you've realized by now that some of your Visions come to pass, while others do not. That is because there are several possible futures at any one time, and there is no way to tell which one will actually come to pass. I'd rather not know any of them, for fear of being misled into doing something terminally stupid."

Remus laughed. "I have a hard time imagining you doing something terminally stupid, Severus," he said.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him, the melting snow dripping down his face. "I think," he said, "that joining the Dark Lord qualifies as terminally stupid."

"Not that you'd know anything about that," said Remus, jerking his head pointedly towards Philomena.

Her back was fortunately turned away from them as she got out cups.

Snape shrugged indifferently, shuffling out of his cloak. Tossing it over the back of his chair, he pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve, to wipe the thawing snow from his face before reaching for another bar.

"Oh, don't be such a prat, Lupin," he said. "Nearly everybody suspects it, or says it on occasion. She might as well know I was an idiot in my youth."

Philomena turned round. "You joined the Dark One?" she asked quietly.

Snape nodded, once.

"Yes," she muttered nodding, "that was terminally stupid." That said, she turned back round and continued to fuss with the tea.

"A little more respect if you please," said Remus. "This is, after all, the man that cured you. I wouldn't run around calling him terminally stupid."

"I'm sorry," said Philomena sounding only mildly contrite. "After all, he did say it himself, first."

Snape smirked. "Lupin, Lupin," he chided, "you, of all people, should know how absolutely useless it is to try to get people to have any sort of respect for me whatsoever. That, however, is beside the point. Have you, Ms. Lupin, felt any constriction of your breathing, unnatural quickening of the heart, or faintness?"

"No," she said. "I'm just tired, I suppose. And hungry."

"Chocolate is a very good antidote to the poison of hunger," said Snape taking another bar. "Especially for people who have missed meals researching for ungrateful pests like the Potter boy."

Remus sighed. "It wasn't suspended animation after all. She apparently remembers it."

Snape cocked his head to one side. "Interesting." After a pause, he continued, "Explain?"

Philomena poured tea, and began to tell her story again. "After my Visions proved inconsistent, he tried a series of Charms on me, none of which seemed to satisfy him. I don't know which of them worked. It was so long ago... Then he gave me a potion, and I think that did the trick. There are some spells which he does yearly, I'm not sure exactly what does what, and he always casts, or has them cast, right after I've been bled, so my memories are very vague."

"It's a miracle you didn't have an adverse reaction," said Snape. "If your blood's that full of Spells, anything might have had a reaction... Unforgivably careless of me to give it to you without examining your blood first."

"Nothing happened," said Philomena dismissively.

"I have realized," said Snape, "that sometimes things that might happen are as important as things that actually do happen. Sometimes, accidents are narrowly avoided, but that doesn't make the perpetrators any less careless, or any more innocent."

Remus looked away, guessing that Snape was referring to the unfortunate incident in the Shack, during their third year. Yes, he thought, it had been his fault, and even if nothing had happened, it might have, and therein lay his guilt.

Snape turned to Remus. "I suppose," he said carelessly, "you'll want me to find an antidote?"

"Oh, Mr. Snape," said Philomena, "if you only could! I'd be so grateful..."

"I'll need either a sample of the original potion," said Snape, "or a rather good description of it. I think, perhaps, we can make this our first lesson. Describe it."

"It was grainy," she said, "and dark green. It smelled like petrol and tasted... something between Veritaserum, and Wit Sharpening Solution, so I suspect it contained jobberknoll feathers, and armadillo bile."

"You may have a potions expert on your hands, Lupin," said Snape. "Most people wouldn't remember anything about the potion except perhaps the taste, and even then most wouldn't be able to deduce ingredients by comparing it to other potions."

"You've taken Veritaserum?" asked Remus.

She nodded. "Ralf isn't a very trusting person."

Snape frowned, seeming about to say something, when he suddenly grimaced in pain and jumped up. "I'll look into it," he said, before bolting out the door. "Bloody Antiapparition fields," they heard him curse as he broke into a run.

Remus stared after him dazedly.

"He's forgotten his cloak," said Philomena grabbing it. "He'll freeze." She ran out the door, and pelted headlong after him.

Remus watched from the door as she sprinted towards him, calling his name. Snape turned, having nearly reached the end of the wards. She threw the cloak towards him; he caught it, waved, and ran on. At the end of the Wards, he Disapparated with a crack.

Philomena walked slowly back to the house. Remus waited for her in the doorway, and put his arm around her when she came in. She was shivering. He shut the door, and led her to the chair.

"What was wrong with him?" she asked. "He just bolted."

"Called, probably," said Remus grimly. "I hope he'll be all right."

XXX

Harry Potter hated Tuesdays. To begin with, he had Potions, Astronomy, and Arithmancy all on the same day, all with the Slytherins. That was a good enough reason to hate any day, let alone a day as horrid as Tuesday. Added to that was the fact that he knew the Quidditch team was practicing, while he could not. Dumbledore had insisted he drop it for the good of the world. After all, you couldn't defeat the darkest Wizard in history by catching little balls on broomsticks.

This particularly Tuesday hadn't gone as badly as usual however. Potions had been all right. Snape, while being exact as ever, seemed not to have time to bother baiting Harry. He did take a fair amount of points from Neville, but that would have happened even if it weren't Tuesday.

Arithmancy was tolerable. Not only did Hermione loosen up enough to commit the academic sin of slipping him the answer to a question Vector was asking, but Malfoy had also arrived nearly ten minutes late refusing to give an explanation and had lost Slytherin a good twenty points.

Astronomy had been simple theory, since the midnight classes would be held on the twelfth, in order to observe the full moon, and Orion. Merely having to look interested while Sinistra gabbed on about how wonderful it would be when they finally got to see the constellation she was talking about was easy, and the Slytherins were too set back by Draco's recent loss of points to try to spoil the atmosphere.

Finally, Harry's classes were over, and he returned to his dormitory, and got out the books Snape had given him to read. He had until Monday to read them, but he wanted to get through them before the weekend, so that he would have enough time to let what he'd read sink in.

He started decided to start with Avada Kedavra Charm or Curse? An Analysis. He skipped the introduction, and started the first chapter:

Desire and Intent

Intent and Desire are some of the most important aspects of magic. Avada Kedavra is not the only Spell that varies in its effects due to the Intent and Desire of the Caster. Intent, however, is not as simply as it may appear: Intent is governed by the conscious mind, Desire by the subconscious mind.

Intent is what the Caster hopes to gain with his spell. Desire is what the Caster, in his heart of hearts, wishes. For example, when a Mage casts Wingardium Leviosa, the Intent of the Caster is to levitate the Object (a feather). The Object will levitate more, or less, depending on how strong the Desire to levitate the Object is.

Occasionally, however, a Desire to levitate something other than the Object the Spell is intended for will modify the Energy enough to successfully levitate that Object. This principle is what came into play when Boris the Bewildered was assassinated with Wingardium Leviosa, when a rebel levitated him until his skull cracked on the ceiling. The Desire to levitate Boris the Bewildered, however, would not have had any effect, had the assassin's Intent been to levitate a feather. The Intent and Desire must be the same for such an effect to take place.

Avada Kedavra, however, is a Spell that routinely breaks all known Laws of Magical Theory. The Intent of the Caster is overridden if a Desire exists in the Caster, the Object of which is in the Caster's line of sight.

Avada Kedavra, literally, means, "let it be so." It is the first, and most primitive of spells, but has proved the hardest for Wizards to understand. For many centuries, it was believed that the Caster had complete control over the effects of this spell. Avada Kedavra was originally not known as the Killing Curse, but simply as The Charm of Charms, since it did not have any fixed effect, but varied according to the Intent of the Caster. It was used for everything.

As said, when a Desire other than the Intent is manifest, than the Desire is that which activates Avada Kedavra. For instance, the famed Lance Flaubert had the Intent, according to Veritatserum testimony at his trial, merely to heat up a cup of cocoa. However, his deeply seated Desire to kill his wife took over the spell. (see: Annotated Records of Great Trials of 1211 by Darth Brown)

For centuries, it was thought that the Caster of Avada Kedavra had complete control over its effects. Recent research however, has proved the contrary. The Caster's Intent rarely corresponds to the actual effect when used for day to day needs, simply because in the underlying Psyche of the average Mage, lie many deep Desires, any of which may activate the spell.

According to the Evolutionary Theory of Magic, primitive Mages used Avada Kedavra for all Spells, since they were simple people, and had no greater desires than those at hand. As time went on, however, use of Avada Kedavra became increasingly unpredictable, forcing the creation of newer, more precise spells for regular magic. It was still used whenever another Spell was not known, or the Mage could not remember the proper incantation. Thus was the case with Flaubert.

Because of its unpredictability, Avada Kedavra fell into disuse except for desperate situations, when the Desire was sure to correspond to the Intent of the Caster. For this reason, it was banned in 1321, except for use in emergency circumstances.

Avada Kedavra did not become known as the Killing Curse until 1412. By that time, Avada Kedavra was rarely used, on account of the strict Ministry Guidelines, and its unpredictability. It became, over time, the Curse of choice for murderers and assassins, for the Desire to kill is generally quite strong, and will override others, especially when the Intent corresponds to it.

Avada Kedavra has puzzling limits as to its power. Theoretically, if a Mage used the spell, and his deepest Desire was to kill a certain person, that person would die, wherever they happened to be. However, for reasons Wizards have been unable to determine, it only works when the object of the Desire is in the immediate line of sight of the Caster. For this reason, a deeper Desire than the immediate Desire to kill is usually bypassed simply because the Object is too far away for the Spell to have effect.

For instance, if a Mage's deepest Desire is to be reunited with a lost friend, Avada Kedavra is useless. It will, however, heal wounds beyond most Medical Magic if the patient is within the Caster's line of sight, and the Caster has a great Desire for their health. The same spell would not heal the patient if the Object were out of sight.

In 1743, Nicholas Flammel made the startling discovery that Avada Kedavra would not function at all if used under Imperius. This fact has been suppressed, and censored to protect certain influential Mages who used Imperius as an excuse when accused of murder.

This fact, however, should be obvious to any thinking Mage. Imperius works by suppressing the actual Desire and Intent of the Object. Therefore, Avada Kedavra, which works only through Desire and Intent, is negated.

Avada Kedavra was ruled by the Wizengamot to be Unforgivable in 1732.

Harry stopped reading, and thought for a moment. He remembered that Crouch, in Moody's disguise, had said that the whole class could point their wands and say the words without harming him. Of course they wouldn't have, because none of them would have wanted him dead. Their Intent wouldn't have been strong enough. The Spell would have no effect, since the Object of their Desire was most likely not in the Defense Against Dark Arts Classroom.

He considered what his deepest desire was. According to the Mirror of Erised, it had been to have a family. But Harry was sure his deepest wish had changed since his first year. He desired to defeat Voldemort. He considered, for a moment, whether he was capable of killing him.

Harry sighed. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't quite picture himself killing anybody, not even Voldemort. He just didn't have it in him to kill. Perhaps there was another way to defeat Voldemort. Harry would have to have to ask Snape when the time came.

***Full Moon***

Throughout the week, Remus heard nothing from Snape whatsoever. However, he assumed the man was all right, considering that no emergency Order meeting had been called and Harry hadn't written, as he would have if Snape had disappeared from Hogwarts.

Remus grimaced, staring out the window. In a few hours the sun would set, and the moon would rise. If Severus didn't arrive soon, Remus would have to lock himself up somehow.

Convincing Philomena that Severus was all right had been relatively easy. Convincing himself had been impossible. Remus found himself on edge, staring out the window, watching for an owl, cocking an ear expecting the Wards to ring out.

Philomena seemed to realize that something was bothering him but probably assumed it was merely the oncoming Moon.

"Father," she said, tugging him away from the window again, "it's all right. Do stop fretting."

Remus sighed. After the time she had cried herself to sleep in his lap, things had become easier between them. They hadn't talked about it, but the incident had opened them both up to each other resulting in an easy relationship.

Remus had found the Wolf continually harder to fight down with the new protective urge being overpowering. He reverted to the speech of the Pack when speaking to his daughter, and continually called her 'love,' or 'my heart.' Not only did reverting to Pack dynamics appeased the Wolf somewhat, but he was also fast developing a genuine fondness for the odd girl.

She was still quiet and reserved, but since she had revealed her greatest secret to Remus, she had relaxed. Most importantly, she had dropped every last remnant of the twelve-year-old act. While it was jarring for Remus to talk seriously with a girl who looked twelve, or, worse yet, let her into his lab to assist him, he had gotten used to her, and was working quite hard to find a Spell to restore her to her true form.

He let himself be pulled back to the couch. "Sorry, love," he said. "I... got carried away."

"The moon," she said, nodding. "I know."

"It's... It's not only that," he said. "I'm worried about Severus."

"You said yourself that Mr. Snape would be perfectly all right," she reasoned. "You've no reason to fret like this. None at all."

He ran a hand through his hair. "He normally delivers my Potion in the morning. I do hope he gets here before..."

Her eyes widened. He shook his head sadly and sighed. "If he doesn't make it over in time I have a room in the lab'. No matter what you hear, no matter what happens, you are not to go down there, do you understand?"

She nodded, once. "Yes, father. I understand."

He was grateful for the fact that she didn't ask whether he'd be all right, or how well the room was warded, or whether there was anything she could do. He knew she accepted him on his own terms and accepted that he knew what he was doing. That was more than he could say for his friends, who had simply decided that it was their job to take care of him and Remus hadn't been the type to say no.

He started when he felt her hand on his arm. He realized he had been mutilating an innocent scrap of parchment between his fingers. Sheepishly, he met her gaze. She was smiling in an indulgent sort of way.

"No need to kill the parchment," she said. "Seriously, you need to relax. If you keep torturing yourself like this you'll have a nervous breakdown." She rose from the couch, and headed for the kitchen. "I've made you some tea. It'll calm you down a bit."

Remus sighed. "I'm a rotten parent," he joked. "My children have to constantly feed me tea to keep me in check."

"Nonsense," she said. "I'm just a bad daughter. Selfish thing I am, really. I just make you tea so that I don't have to deal with your moods."

"I don't have moods," said Remus indignantly, following her into the kitchen.

She smirked at him. "Of course you do, father."

He threw himself back into his chair. "However did I live without you, my heart?" he asked.

"I haven't the foggiest," she answered dryly, handing him his cup. "Drink the lot."

He laughed shakily at her commanding tone, which reminded him strongly of his mother. That was who she looked like, he told himself. His mother...

"Did I ever tell you that you look like my mother?" he asked.

She looked startled. "No, you hadn't mentioned it."

"I didn't realize it before now," he said slowly. "Because your hair is nothing like hers. She was a wonderful woman..."

She sat on the table, and scooted over until was next to him. She'd taken to sitting on the table, mainly because she liked to be at eye level with the people she was talking to. "Were you very close?" she asked.

Remus leaned back, sipped his tea, and remembered. "Yes," he said, "I adored her. She... doted on me, really. I was such a spoiled little thing. Until... until Ralf came along and..."

"Did she abandon you?" Philomena asked. "Because you were a Wolf?"

Remus shook his head. "I wish she had," he said sadly. "She killed herself."

Philomena blinked and was at a loss for something to say. "She couldn't bear it," he continued. "To see that her baby was hurt and that there wasn't anything she could do about it. Add the fact that father thought it best that I be bundled off to the Ministry..."

"Where you?" she asked. "Bundled off, I mean."

Remus shrugged. "I suppose you could say so," he said. "They had me registered, gave me a number. Locked me up in their ridiculous compound for the Change, and didn't allow me to contact unaffected children..."

"How old were you?"

He shut his eyes, memories flooding through him, calming in their familiarity. "Eight. And then... and then Albus Dumbledore arrived to speak to me. I had received a Hogwarts letter, and he had to convince them to let me go. Had to go through all sorts of trouble to get me out of there. I never went back."

She made an inarticulate sound in the back of her throat in sympathy. He leaned back in his chair, eyes still shut, smiling softly. "They were the best years of my life, in Hogwarts, the worst, too, somehow. On the one hand I had everything I never had before, friends, freedom and hope. On the other, I was constantly afraid of losing it all. I had never really been afraid before. I nearly did lose all of it..."

She didn't speak, thinking it better to let him talk. "And then everything went wrong. The Dark Lord began the War, and James got himself and his wife involved straight away. James Potter was one of my best friends. Along with Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew. Sirius... Merlin, he was confusing back in those days. He was always with James, vowing to fight the good fight and then, next moment, he'd be writing long letters to his brother, and we all knew his brother was on the other side.

"None of them really trusted me, then. Oh, they wanted too, I suppose, and they said they did, but nobody really trusts a Dark Creature. They wouldn't let me take part in their fight. I swallowed my pride, and didn't argue the point. Still - I tried to stay around, like a good friend. They got the wrong idea though. They thought I was trying to figure out what they were working on for the war..."

Remus began to slide his finger around and around the rim of his cup. A low ringing sound filled the room. It seemed to be soothing to him and although Philomena found it grating, she gritted her teeth and said nothing.

"That's the trouble with most people," he continued. "They'll think the worst of those they think ought to be betraying them as a matter of course, and never bother to check those who actually are. It's a logical fallacy, but I suppose it can't be helped. A man can't see the stains on his own shirt, after all."

He seemed lost in thought for a moment. "I suppose I should have said what I suspected about Peter. It wouldn't have done any good, because they would have thought I was doing it out of jealousy, or to have him removed so I could get more information. And Peter knew that. Every time he looked me in the eye, I could see that he knew I knew what he was.

"Peter was my fault, too. When I saw what a friendless boy he was at school, I felt it my duty to make sure he had somebody. To make sure there were people around him who would protect him from the teasers and taunters. I had known what that was like...

"I became a brother to him. My "protégé," Sirius called him. And he began to look up to me, all of us actually. He admired James for his skills on a broom, and Sirius for his skills at being the most annoying thing since the invention of the leaky faucet, but... I was the one he looked up to most. I felt... responsible for him. And he was the only one who trusted me in the end.

"I know... sounds odd, doesn't it? The traitor trusted me. He knew I wasn't going to betray my friends, and he knew that included him. He trusted me enough not to hide himself... I should have done something. But I couldn't believe that Peter, my responsibility, could go against our friends.

"And he trusted me, love, he trusted me. He never begged me not to tell, he trusted I wouldn't without saying. Occasionally, he would drop a hint to me. Told me to make sure not to be certain places. Or to make sure James didn't trust certain people. Of all people, I was the worst to choose as a messenger.. James couldn't look me in the eye. Sirius gave me odd looks, and refused to speak more than a sentence to me at a time. Lilly... she had always been fond of me. Told them several times that I was trustworthy, that she was sure I couldn't be doing anything untoward, but she was outvoted.

"It happened. The great, big, terrible it happened. James and Lilly, dead. They told me, and held me at their headquarters at wand point until they received more news; Peter was dead and Sirius had taken out half street to kill him.

"Werewolves aren't permitted to give testimony. I told Dumbledore what I knew, in a desperate attempt to save my last friend. He merely gazed sadly at me and said that even if Sirius was innocent of betraying Lilly and James, he had still killed fourteen people..."

"I was the only one left, after that, Philomena. I did the only thing that was safe; I studied. The War went on for about a year after the Dark Lord's disappearance with the maverick Death Eaters wreaking havoc without organization or a leader. And I studied. Defense, Wards... anything I thought I could use to help the Light. Even though they didn't want my help.

"Dumbledore, of course, believed in 'second chances.' I hadn't really been given a first chance when the war began, but when he saw that I hadn't gone to the Dark, he began to believe that perhaps I could help the Light. And so I did.

"After the war was over and I was no longer needed ... I finally got a job in the Ministry of all places. Diplomat. I spent a few years negotiating with all sorts of nasty foreign powers, until my own country decided I was not human enough to represent them.

"Then I started working with Wards. I put up Wards on family estates, government property, and even some for Hogwarts. That is, until one of my coworkers realized what I was and decided that my employers would appreciate the knowledge...

"I taught a year at Hogwarts. I suppose that was mostly because Dumbledore couldn't find anybody else... and, as usual, somebody let the secret slip. Two more years. Hardly an employed month in them together. Hard to get a job when the Daily Prophet's run your picture with headlines like, "Slavering Monster Teaching Children Cabalistic Spells," and "Remus J Lupin: Hogwarts' Dirty Secret."

"The War started up again... and I was useful once more. Back with Dumbledore; more Wards, more Protective Spells. So-called Top Secret work that, give or take a few months, is usually published as an original breakthrough by one of my 'respectable,' colleagues.

"And there you have it, Philomena. How to become a social leper, a diplomat, and a secret agent, in a few easy steps."

Philomena was silent for a moment grateful that Remus' finger had stopped making his cup sing the praises of Earl Grey. "Do you always end up telling your life story when under stress, or did you just feel like venting?"

He opened his eyes again and looked into hers. "Neither," he said. "I just thought you ought to know a bit more about who I am. I'd rather get the basics covered in one sitting than have you try and sift out my live story piecemeal from whatever odd hints one might normally drop in conversation."

Philomena nodded slowly. Remus realized with a start just how late it had become. The sun hadn't yet set, but it had about half an hour left. He got to his feet and gulped the rest of his tea down.

"All right," he said, slamming his cup into the saucer. "I am going down to the lab'. I will lock myself in. It probably won't be necessary but I'd feel better if you locked the basement door from the outside as well. Remember ... whatever you hear, don't try to interfere."

She got off the table nervously. "Yes," she said.

"I have time yet," he said, "but I'd rather not risk drifting off again. Good night, love."

To his amazement, she hugged him tightly.

"I... just be all right, will you?" she said. "Don't hurt yourself."

He disentangled her gently. "Easier said than done, I'm afraid," he sighed, "but I'll be all right. Don't worry about me if I'm not up for breakfast. I'll probably be unconscious until noon."

She watched from the top of the stairs as he walked purposefully down them, and unbolted a large door. He opened it and she saw that it contained nothing except a high window and a blanket. He turned towards her.

"Lock it," he said.

She nodded and did as she was told. She leaned against the door, and heard the clang of the heavy bolt being shut down in the basement. He must have spelled it shut, she thought, since the bolt was on the outside.

Suddenly, she was quite nervous. She found herself watching the window, just as she had scolded Remus for doing before. The sunset was beautiful, though she was in no mood to enjoy it. Slowly, the sun dipped down through the sky, reaching the horizon in a blaze of red and gold.

Abruptly the Wards rang out in warning. Philomena waited for the usual smoke to warn her of the intruder's identity, but it didn't come. Apparently, they were attuned strictly to Remus. Philomena tried to calm herself down, telling herself she would be all right.

Running to the window, she stared out into the twilight.

It was Snape, she realized, running as fast as he could. She flung the door open as he barrelled in. "Where is he?" he demanded.

"Downstairs, in the lab'," she answered. "He's locked himself in."

Snape unlocked the door and hurtled down the stairs. She watched, as he flung the back the bolt and entered the room. She caught a glimpse of her father, crouched on the floor beneath the window, before Snape stepped in front of him.

"No, Snape!" she heard Remus rasp. "You're too late. Get out. Please. Move."

She didn't dare shut the door in case Snape should need to come up the stairs quickly, so she continued to watch.

"Came as fast as I could, Lupin," said Snape, forcing a bottle into Remus' hand. "Drink it quickly while you still have a chance."

Remus grabbed it and gulped it down. He dropped the empty vial to the floor, staggering back against the wall. Moonlight streamed through the window making odd striped patterns on his face. The Change began.

Lupin's body twisted in an impossible arc, and a cry of pain left his throat. Snape stood frozen in shock, one hand scrabbling helplessly for the door. As suddenly as it had begun, it was over, and a tremendous Wolf fell to the floor.

The Wolf stood, tall, and gray. She took a step forward. With an inarticulate cry, Snape came to himself enough to run. He ran up the stairs, and into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. He braced himself against it, still in a state of panic. An unearthly howl came from below.

Snape's eyes were wide open, and his breathing was erratic. He staggered forward and collapsed in the middle of the room, shivering violently. Philomena darted forward to help him. She knelt beside him on the floor, and removed his cloak.

His eyes stared into space and his breathing was speeding up. She quickly loosened his collar, as well as his sleeves. Rolling up his cloak, she slipped it beneath his feet, mentally going over everything she'd ever read about shock.

She ran and grabbed the blanket from Remus' bedroom. "I seem to spend all my time tucking the men of my life in," she thought wildly to herself as she threw it over him. He stared unseeingly at the ceiling, hyperventilating.

"Calm the patient down," she recited mentally, "and keep him from moving unnecessarily."

"It's all right," she said softly, pushing his hair away from his face, "it's all right, it's all right, it's all right..."

Slowly, Snape came back to himself. His breathing returned to normal, as did his pulse. He scrabbled away from her and pulled himself to his feet. He swayed for a moment unsteadily.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I... yes," he said at last. "Thank you."

He turned away from her leaning on the table getting himself back under control. She looked nervously at the basement door.

"That hasn't happened to me in nearly twenty years, Ms. Lupin," he said sounding miles away. "I haven't ...lost control like that since..."

"It's all right," she said again.

"I would appreciate it if... you didn't mention the incident," he said, carefully not looking at her.

"Of course not," she whispered. "I'm so glad you came in time. I was so scared..."

"Only a fool wouldn't be scared at a time like this," he said.

"Is he safe?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes," he answered grimly, "as safe as humanly possible."

She picked up his cloak from the floor and handed it back to him. He threw it over his arm. Another howl filled the air.

"I don't understand," he said perplexedly. "There never was a sound at Hogwarts... perhaps the potion isn't as effective taken so soon before..."

She stared at him, her eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. He looked back at her. Abruptly, he said, "I'll stay here in case something happens."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said, "I... I didn't want to be alone, but... it upset you so much, I didn't want to ask you to..."

"It's all right," he said gruffly. "It's late. You should get some sleep."

"You should too," she pointed out. "There's the couch, or my father's room..."

"I'll be fine sitting here," he said.

A scrabbling was heard. Snape darted to the basement door and snapped the lock shut. For a moment, nobody spoke. They heard the Wolf scratch at the door. Snape pulled out his wand, and cast several more complicated Warding and Locking Spells.

"That should do it," he said at last.

There was a bang, as the Wolf threw herself bodily against the door. "I have no idea what went wrong," Snape said. "Either he took it too late, or I made a mistake..."

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep, sir," she said.

"Neither will I," he sighed, sinking into a chair. "What a pity."

The Wolf threw herself at the door again. Both pretended it didn't bother them in the slightest. Snape knew his Wards had once held against a very irate Giant and he was sure they would hold tonight too. Still, the panic that had seized him earlier proved that when it came to Werewolves, rational thought didn't help much.

"Well," said Snape after a while, "we might as well make the best of it. Has your father got more of that chocolate lying around?"