The classroom was dimly lit, and had it not been for the clock ticking steadily at the front of the room, the time would not have been possible to ascertain. The reason for this was simple, as the dungeon classroom that Severus Snape taught in, like many others in the school, did not have any windows. It was therefore up to the job of sputtering candles in brackets on the walls to light the dark spaces, all the while fighting off the dampness of the room, and the occasional drop of water seeping in through the stones above. The droplets of water were coming down a little more frequently than usual that day in the classroom, at seven-o-clock in the evening. This likely had something to do with the fact that it was spring, and the rain came often. Professor Snape, of course, was quite obviously ignoring the random hisses when water met flame , and instead went on cleaning out cupboards with a slight peace about him. Despite the messiness of going through the cupboards, he looked content. Perhaps this was because it was quiet, and working in a school such as Hogwarts, which had a population mainly of students, silence was not found often. Silence, in Snape’s case, seemed to be an opportunity for productivity; there was a bin filled with expired potion ingredients, dust bunnies, and various other things deemed no longer useful. Professor Snape frowned as he flicked his wand and sent a damp, mouldering textbook to the dustbin. He looked rather dismayed to find yet another. There were quite a few old textbooks in the bin, covered in slime and mould, and wet all the way to the spine. Professor Snape muttered a few water repelling charms on the other textbooks, which were still capable of being used. Some, however, did not appear to hold the charm well, most likely due to age.

With another swish of his wrist - looking as though his mind was hardly on what he was doing - Professor Snape sent a scrub brush skating through the empty cupboard. The brush spread suds with more enthusiasm than one would expect from an inanimate object. With a splash, it dove back into the bucket of soapy water, and Professor Snape lifted the stack of remaining, usable textbooks into the cupboard. He dusted his hands off lightly, and shut the door before standing up.

Glancing at the clock, Professor Snape ran his hand through his hair with the manner of someone who had been working too hard, and getting too little sleep. He sighed slightly, and moved across the room to tackle another cupboard.

It took a good twenty minutes (and a few very good cleaning spells) to get two of the three remaining cupboards clean. This unfortunately had to do with a very large container of pickled rat brains having been spilled on the wood. Rubbing his back and wincing, Professor Snape stretched a little, the hissing candles flickering feebly and throwing strange shadows across the room. His back gave a good loud crack, and when he had unclenched his teeth, he let out a soft sigh of relief.

 “Last one,” he muttered to himself, the deep shadows under his eyes still very noticeable despite the relief written upon his face.

Professor Snape bent down and attempted to open the cupboard door. It seemed quite firmly shut. Snape sneered at the cupboard. He adjusted his position, got a firm footing, and gave the door a good yank. Sure enough the cupboard opened. Wasting no time, Snape turned around and strode across the room, grabbing the bucket of soapy water to move it closer. Pausing after noticing the water was quite dirty, he vanished the contents of the bucket. Bending down slightly, he swished his wand and a stream of hot, soapy water poured out from the tip. He stood up again, lifting the full bucket. Professor Snape was about to turn around, and then he paused, for a soft creaking noise had sounded from across the room. A look of worry crossed Snape’s face when a sudden warm breeze fluttered the tips of his hair. Looking wary, he turned around. The bucket fell with a clatter, and it rattled across the floor noisily as Snape froze with horror. A huge wolf was staring him down, feet away, teeth bared, its nostrils the source of the sudden draft. This was no ordinary wolf, despite its great similarities. It was a werewolf.  With a strange noise coming from the back of his throat, Snape remained stiff as a board. Then, with its eyes gleaming sickeningly, a loud rumbling growl began from deep within the werewolf’s chest.  Such a sound seemed to have electrified Snape’s senses, and he stumbled away from the beast. He moved backward with remarkable pace, but the werewolf moved with him. Professor Snape’s breathing was irregular, and his face had become the colour of flour. He tried to shout, but it only came out as a strangled yelp. Snape tripped on the hem of his robe and fell onto his back, scrambling as far from the beast as possible, but the werewolf was between him and the door.

His hand tried to do something with his wand, but he was shaking too badly. As he tried to stutter out a curse, the werewolf let out a bone shaking growl. It lunged, and with his arm over his head and his back in a corner Snape finally got the curse out.

“SECTUMSEMPRA!” he shouted, with his wand pointing directly at the throat of the animal. The werewolf let out a yelp and backed away, for there was a great gash in the fur. Despite this, no blood flowed from the wound.

Snape sat, dumbstruck for a second, staring at the werewolf. Then, quite suddenly, a look of revelation crossed his face.

“R-Riddikulus!” he cried. There was light crackling noise and the form of the werewolf flickered. “Riddikulus! Riddikulus!”

Finally, with the loudest crack of all, the boggart vanished in a puff of smoke.

Professor Snape did not move, but his wand fell from his limp, and shaking hand. Pale and wide-eyed, his breaths came in ragged gasps as he leaned up against the wall. He surveyed the room as his breathing slowly calmed, all the while staring at the open cupboard door.

“You idiot, Snape,” he spat at himself before snatching up his wand and making the cupboard shut with a bang.

***

Harry slammed his quill to the table in the Gryffindor Common room, frustrated with an essay. It was almost nine and he had yet to reach the halfway mark.

“Need some help Harry?” inquired Hermione, with her nose in a book.

“No, I’m fine,” he sighed. “I just wish that cat would quit acting so crazy.”

Hermione glanced over to where a tabby was pacing back and forth by the wall furthest from the windows, right in front of the portrait hole.

“If it would just stop yowling, maybe I could get something done,” Harry complained.

“I’m really sorry Harry,” apologized Katie Bell from where she had just finished pushing open the portrait hole for the cat, which had been scratching and meowing. Now, the cat skittered away from the open portrait hole, and was pacing again. She shut it once more, frustrated. “I just don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s never done this before.”

“Maybe it’s going to storm,” Ron suggested to Harry as he dealt out exploding snap cards to Dean and Seamus. “The ghoul in the attic sometimes pounds on the pipes harder before we get a storm.”

“Er … you have a ghoul in your attic?” Harry asked hesitantly, his attention diverted from the cat, which Katie was desperately trying to distract with a toy mouse.

Ron shrugged and assured Harry that it was perfectly normal.

Harry shook his head, and then picked up his quill again with a sigh. The cat started scratching again, and then let out a loud meow, and this time someone else’s cat joined it. With an exasperated look upon his face, Harry set down his quill again and rolled up the paper.

“I’m never going to finish it tonight with all this racket,” he told Hermione, who was looking at him as though he was committing a crime. “Besides Hermione, I’ve still got all of tomorrow to finish it. I’ve already done my research anyway.”

“Still further ahead than me mate,” Ron said as one of the exploding snap cards exploded in Dean’s face. “I still haven’t gotten over how unfair it is. Why punish us for what Malfoy tossed in our cauldron?”

 “Well you have to do the essay whether you like it or not, even if you don’t like the reason for it being assigned.”

   “Aw, go lecture the cat Hermione,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not in the mood.”

Katie’s cat, which had finally started to settle down at her feet, jumped badly at the noise of more exploding cards, and clawed his way up Katie’s leg.

“Ow, ow, ouch!” she cried as he hissed, tears prickling at the edges of her eyes.

“I’m going to bed,” Harry announced. “I’ve had it.”

Wearily he gathered up his things and began his way upstairs, despite the early hour. He was not the only one to do so.

“Ron!” Harry said anxiously the next night, shortly after curfew. He was sitting on his bed and flipping through a few sheets of parchment. “My last page of research is missing. I can’t finish my essay without it.”

 Ron, who was also hastily scribbling away from where he sat at the small table in their dorm said, “You can take a look at my research.”

 “No, I can’t, Snape assigned us different topics,” Harry moaned, putting his quill on the side table and falling back into his pillow. “I’m dead.”

 “If only the dungeon bat hadn’t told us to hand it in so early, and on a Sunday too,” Ron griped. “I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to make someone get up at six-o-clock on a Sunday just to hand in a stupid essay. Evil git.”

 “I suppose I could just make some stuff up ... but he’d probably make me redo it.”

 “Well, you do have an invisibility cloak now, you know,” said Ron in a hushed tone. “How about going to the library tonight? I mean, it isn’t as though this is your first time sneaking out.”

 “Oh sure, and it went so well the last time I went looking for a book in the middle of the night!” spat Harry.

 “Come on, that was the restricted section. It’s voodoo to try and sneak in there, even during normal hours. Besides, Fred and George told me that Filch barely patrols the rest of the library at night - he thinks none of the other books are worth reading after hours.”

 “I’d still rather not take my chances at having a run-in with Filch, thank you very much.”

 “Well, it’s Filch or Snape. Take your pick.”

  ***

    Click … click, click-click, past Professor Snape’s office. A black shadow passed in front of the door. Click, click … click-click against the stone, echoing off the walls. Abruptly, a light shone from beneath the door to Snape’s office.

      “Who’s there?” called the tired voice of Professor Snape as he pushed the door open. 

      The clicking died away around the corner. The light flooding from the doorway chased away the darkness, but nothing was there.

 ***

 The clock struck one. At last the sound of the door shutting to the older boys’ dorm echoed off the stone, and Harry crept out of bed and threw his invisibility cloak over himself. With his book bag over his shoulder, his parchment and quills inside, he tiptoed down the staircase. He let out a silent breath of relief when he saw the common room was indeed empty. It would not do for someone to see the portrait hole opening on its own. Looking this way and that, Harry walked softly across the common room.

 Something jumped out at him and hissed, and he nearly shouted with fright.

 “Go away Hermes,” said Harry in a hushed voice directed at Katie’s cat as it stood in front of the portrait hole, its fur bristling, spitting and hissing.

Harry pulled the cloak off.

“See, it’s me you silly cat.”

 Hermes still didn’t move, and instead took a step toward Harry, who backed up slightly. He frowned, and bit his lip, looking at the clock. He turned around and grabbed a blanket off the couch. Looking guilty, he threw the blanket over the cat.

 Hermes let out an undignified meow as he tried to get out from under it. Harry took his chance, and he leaped over the thrashing cat and pushed open the portrait hole, his invisibility cloak on once more. Cheeks flushed and panting slightly, he did not look back as he started down the corridor. He went cautiously and carefully, but he really needn’t have, as the corridors were empty wherever he went. It was silent as the grave, except for the occasional whistle of wind rushing through the long, draughty corridors. Despite the emptiness of the castle, Harry still whirled around every so often, eyes scanning the floor for the swish of Mrs. Norris’ tail, looking sure he had heard the patter of her paws on the stone. But each time there was not a soul in sight. Despite this, Harry practically ran for the door to the Library when it came into sight. After a hurried Alohomora, he opened it carefully to avoid squeaking, despite his eagerness to get through the door. Closing it behind him, he let out a sigh of relief. Now all he had to do was find the book.

***

A figure rushed through the halls, sweaty and panting. Professor Snape was wearing a long grey nightshirt, no shoes on his socked feet, and was holding his wand aloft. He paused to peer around a corner. In his other hand was a lit lantern, light spewing out from it, leaving his wand free to fire a curse at any moment. Snape looked ready to hex the nearest thing that moved. Lantern swinging, he rushed around the corner once he determined nothing was there. Somewhere beyond the reaches of the light, something made a rustling noise, followed by a series of clicks. The sounds were foreign to the halls of Hogwarts, and seemed to greatly worry Professor Snape as he traced the path to the Headmaster’s office with his hurried steps. The empty floo powder pot on the mantle in his quarters told the story of why he was venturing through the castle, despite the fact that there was clearly something wandering the halls. Corridor after corridor he went through, winding his way through Hogwarts, all the while acting as though a demon were on his heels. Click, clickety-click. Whatever it was was still there, and it seemed to be moving in a similar direction as him, and sometimes it sounded as though it were coming from two places at once. Snape spun around as the clicking sounded once more. He swore quietly when there was nothing there but the lantern light bouncing off the looming suits of armour. His eyes lingered on the dark gaps in their helmets.

“Almost there … almost there,” he whispered shakily to himself. He only had to go up one staircase and down one last corridor, and he would be at Dumbledore’s office.

 His feet continued to move at a fairly steady pace, though Snape seemed to be trying to refrain from running at the sight of the staircase. Halfway up it there was a strange whoosh and the clicking sounded once again. Wand ready, Professor Snape turned to look for it again, and this time his eyes widened. He took a hasty step backward when he saw a shadow on the wall cast by his lantern. He tripped on the stair and fell, narrowly saving his source of light. Whatever it was had gone, but a green tinge had appeared on Snape’s skin despite the shadow’s retreat. It was then that he began to sprint. The sound was there again, but he did not turn around to see what it was.

 “Chocolate Frogs!” he cried at the gargoyles, which jumped aside for him. Snape ran up the spiral staircase two steps at a time and hammered on the door of Professor Dumbledore’s office. “Come on … come on …” he muttered under his breath.

 “Whatever is the - “Dumbledore began, looking tired in his purple dressing gown. Snape pushed past him with impressive speed and started pacing with a vengeance. “What is the matter, Severus? You look awful.”

 Professor Snape panted a little, trying to calm his breathing. This only made him look more hysterical, wearing only his nightshirt and socks (one half off), still gripping the lantern and his wand tightly.

 “Shut the door,” he hissed, staring in barely concealed horror at the gaping entrance as though he expected something to come through it. He proceeded when the door was closed, looking around frantically. “There’s something in the castle. I could not sleep, so I was sitting in my office. I was just about to turn in when I heard clicking by the door, like claws on stone … and on my way up here to tell you about it something was following me. I - I’m sure of it. Then I saw a shadow on the wall, and I swear on my mother’s grave it was a werewolf. I swear, Albus.”

 “Calm down, Severus,” Professor Dumbledore soothed, pulling out a chair for Snape as he surveyed the dishevelled appearance of the potions master: the thin sheen of sweat on his skin, the wide eyes and shaking hands.

 “I’m not making this up Albus,” he croaked, not taking the chair, but letting Dumbledore pry the lantern from his grasp and set it on the desk. He barely seemed to notice, in fact.

 “I’m sure you did see something that looked to you like a werewolf’s shadow,” said Dumbledore calmly, “and I’m sure you did hear something in the hallways.”

 “It was a werewolf shadow,” Snape said defensively.

 “Have you thought that it might have just been one of the students’ cats making the clicking sound, and the shadow was something that only looked like a werewolf, and was really something else? The imagination plays tricks at night - surely you know this.”

 “I do!” spat Snape, yanking his shoulder out from under Dumbledore’s hand. “It wasn’t a cat making those noises, and if it was it had to have been the size of a cougar at least!”

 “I’m not saying you didn’t see what you say you did … but I would like to remind you that you did let your imagination get away with you a bit as a student on matters like this. Is it not possible that this could be -”

 “I’M NOT A STUDENT ANYMORE, ALBUS!” bellowed Snape, hands clenched, furious. “Just because of what happened that night in the hospital wing after Black tried to kill me, does not mean I can’t spot the real thing! That was one time! ONE!”

 “Severus,” began Dumbledore.

 “Do not Severus me! I saw what I saw, and if I was right, which I am this time, then the students are in danger. You can refuse to believe me, but are you really going to gamble lives over this?”

 “Severus,” said Dumbledore in a soft, but dangerous voice. Snape appeared to sense that he shouldn’t go any further, and fell silent. Though this did nothing to extinguish the smouldering fire in his eyes. “You aren’t giving me a chance to speak.”

 Snape looked as though he were barely holding back the poisonous retort he longed to spit at Dumbledore.

 “Look outside,” said Professor Dumbledore softly.

 Mutinously, Professor Snape stalked over to the window and looked out. His shoulders drooped slightly.

 “But -” he started before faltering, unable to finish his sentence as he looked out at the moon.

 “The full moon isn’t for five days. There could not possibly have been a transformed werewolf in the castle.”

 “I know what I saw …” Snape said, this time softy.

 “Perhaps we should just let this one go. It’s been a long week, we’re all tired.”

 “I -”

 “Go back to bed Severus,” Dumbledore responded kindly, offering the pot of floo powder to Snape, who looked puzzled.

***

     Deep in the library, Harry hastily skimmed through a book, his invisibility cloak left on the floor. The only light came from the lantern on the table, which was turned down to a low flicker.

    “Ah, there it is,” he muttered before scratching down some information, the noise sounding like thunder in the silence. And while it only sounded loud because of the stillness of the castle, the noise was just enough to cover the rustling that was growing at the front of the library.

Sunday morning, Professor Snape sat rigidly in one of the armchairs in the staff room, waiting along with the other staff present for the final members to arrive. Dumbledore was pacing by the fire. One of the staff had been kind enough to brew tea for everyone, though Dumbledore hardly seemed to notice, which was quite unusual. Snape, seeming agitated, downed his scalding tea in a few gulps, and then set the cup on its saucer. For a few moments he remained staring at Dumbledore with a shrewd and scrutinizing look upon his face.

     “The rabbit - a warning of what is to come … Lightening - divergence …”

     “Give that back!” spat Snape at Sybill Trelawny, who had been sitting nearby and was now studying Snape’s tea leaves intently. He wrenched the teacup from her grasp and set it back on the saucer with a clatter.

     “If you wish to remain blind, then you may do so,” she sniffed haughtily, turning away from Snape’s mutinous glare as Professor Sprout finally arrived in the staff room. Snape looked relieved at her arrival, and the staff quieted down now that the room was full.

     “I am sure you are all wondering why I have called you here so early on a Sunday morning,” said Dumbledore gravely, once all eyes were on him. “Irma” - Madam Pince swelled with importance - “came to me after finding several smaller shelves in the Library toppled, and with her, she brought this.”

     There was a slight gasp throughout the room, and many of the staff members became pale. Snape was one of them. Dumbledore had held up a school bag, with three very large claw marks cut clean in the canvas.

     “The bag has been identified to be Mr. Potter’s, and as of this morning he has been reported missing. According to Miss Granger, Mr. Potter was to have handed in an essay early this morning to you, Severus. Was it handed in?”

       “No,” said Snape simply, sounding rather irritated. “Weasley’s paper arrived on my desk, but not his. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Potter.”

        Talk erupted once more in the staff room. Whispers, and hushed speculations of what it could be. It was a wonder Dumbledore did not burst into flame, what with the look Snape was giving him.

       “Hagrid, you haven’t let any of your pets loose, have you?” inquired Professor Sprout, though not unkindly, and in response Hagrid said he had not.

        Amidst the hubbub, Snape was looking increasingly more annoyed. The room fell silent when they heard the acidic tone in his voice.

       “The claw marks are rather large,” Snape drawled. “You don’t suppose it could be some sort of wolf?”

       “It certainly looks like it could be,” squeaked Flitwick. Snape looked pointedly at Dumbledore.

       Dumbledore did not respond to this, and instead began to instruct the staff on how they would be handling the situation. A team of Aurors was coming in, as well as an expert on dangerous creatures. They would be sweeping the castle and grounds. As a precaution, teachers were to lead students to their classes for the next few days.

        When Dumbledore finished talking, the staff departed in a flurry of worried words and anxious faces, leaving only two people in the room. Dumbledore was one of them, and he remained standing by the fireplace, looking deep into the flames. After a few moments he turned around and spoke.

       “What is it, Severus?” he asked softly, not looking surprised to find that Professor Snape had remained.

        “You didn’t believe me,” Snape said, voice low and hollow. “There was something in this castle, but you just sat back and watched.”

        “Severus, I am sorry that I made such a mistake,” said Dumbledore, sounding both very grave and honest. “I should have believed you, but now the only thing that can be done is to rectify the problem.”

      “You owe Potter your apology too, if he hasn’t already been lost.”

       “I know. Hmm … you say what you saw was a werewolf, Severus,” muttered Dumbledore as he fingered the torn canvas of the bag, “and these claw marks look in every way like they belong to one, but what of the full moon? Surely there are not regular wolves this large in the forbidden forest?”

       “Do not bother asking me. I simply reported what I saw.”

       Dumbledore frowned, and then said, “You are still keeping an eye on Quirrel?”

       “Yes. He was in the forest the other day. You don’t suppose he could have something to do with this, do you?”

     “I am unsure. If you find anything suspicious, report it to me immediately. Continue to observe him. Follow him if you can.”

       “Even if he goes out into the forest again?” The note of worry in Snape’s voice was almost undetectable. Almost.

      “Especially if he goes out into the forest. If he is the one doing this, I need to know as soon as possible.”

     “Yes Headmaster,” replied Professor Snape.

     “You may go now. I have much to do.”

      Snape nodded and went out the door.

      ***

     Harry’s eyes were wide as they took in the soft greenish glow that illuminated the darkness. The sound of ragged breathing punctured the silence every so often, rising above the soft trickle of water. He closed his eyes, as though willing himself to be anywhere else in the world.

   ***

   Professor Snape walked through the corridors of Hogwarts with a purpose, and yet with great care. Looking back and forth, he ducked behind a tapestry and performed a disillusionment charm. He pulled a battered and tarnished pocket watch from within his cloak and took a look at it, his fingers blending in with the tapestry back as he stood perfectly still..

    “Right on … time,” he whispered to himself, as the distant echo of footsteps rang through the halls. Snape peered through a miniscule hole in the weaving of the tapestry, watching Quirrell intently, who, like Snape had been, was walking through the halls with quiet purpose.

      After seeing Quirrell’s robe whip around the corner ahead, Snape paused for a few moments, and then slid out from behind the tapestry to slink after him. They reached the grounds quickly, Snape following undetected. He stayed hidden, and some time after Quirrell had left the entrance hall, Professor Snape slid outside as well. It was growing dark out, and when Snape crept out of the double doors and behind a clump of bushes a person could be seen, way off in the distance. It was Quirrell, standing by the forest as he looked around before darting into the trees. Snape took a step forward, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he waited. After about a half hour, Quirrell came out of the forest, looking much less agitated.

Professor Snape stood stock still in the bushes as Quirrel passed, and only once he was gone did Snape begin to walk around the side of the castle. At first it was not clear as to where he was going, until he stopped. Far off a small window that was set into the rock below the castle could be seen. It looked like it led to a dungeon room somewhere. With a silent flick of his wand, he summoned a lantern from it, and a soft whooshing noise announced its presence as it rushed through the rapidly darkening grounds. The lantern too had a charm on it to camouflage it, but Snape managed to reach up a hand and catch it without taking his eyes off the forest. Then, he walked with the unlit lantern in his hand down to the edge of the trees, where Quirrell had previously disappeared into. He stepped into the trees and removed the disillusionment charm - off of both himself, and the lantern. The darkness of the forest hid him well despite the missing charm, but it was far too dark to see. He walked a few feet into the trees, and then lit the lantern, keeping the flame low. His wand was up and ready to defend himself should he need to. As his eyes searched the edges of the flickering puddle of light where the blackness began, he continued on.

      Despite the fact that he had marched with steady, unwavering steps down into the grounds and to the forest edge, he faltered now; his grip tightened on the lantern, and on his wand. Yet Snape pressed on, eyes flicking nervously at the shadows. Every snap of a stick, every rustle of a branch, made him turn. In spite of all of this, his journey to Quirrell’s destination was uneventful. After a long time, Snape froze. Lying on the forest floor, causing surprise and shock to fall upon Snape’s face, was a unicorn. It was lying dead, its pure white mane lying in a pool of silvery blood. This could only be what Quirrell had been hiding.

     “That scum,” said Snape in a low whisper that was quickly lost in the trees.

     Glancing around before he did so, Snape knelt by the creature, which was quite thoroughly dead.  One of his eyebrows rose as he took in the bite marks on the side of it. Blood was smeared on its flank where the wound was. Professor Snape was looking thoughtfully down at the animal. He did not react to the soft swishing noise in the trees, or see the shadows cast by his lantern. But he did register the snapping of a stick, and he whirled around. There were eyes looking at him through the bushes. He blasted a curse into the brush and then turned on his heel and bolted, the lantern flickering dimly with the rush of the air. He turned the flame down completely, and threw each foot in front of the other with great speed. He was a fast runner, but whatever was following him was faster, and had much better vision on the dark forest.

      Frantically, his eyes darted around as he ran, focusing on the trees rushing by. All of them were very tall, but the branches did not begin until very high up. There was no hope of being able to climb one. All that was left was to run. The thumping crackle of the steps behind was growing ever closer, the rustle of underbrush accompanying it, and all the while the not quite full moon sparkled above through the trees, shedding light on the surroundings. Yet this light was not enough, and Professor Snape was sent flying through the air, having tripped on a root. He fell hard on the floor of the forest, the unlit lantern falling from his grasp and shattering. The sound of the glass breaking did not quite cover up the loud crack that shot through the air. As he lay on his belly, something moved nearby. For a moment Snape did not stir. His brows were furrowed, his eyes clenched shut, and he was biting his lip. After a moment, gasping, Snape tried to get up, but as soon as he put any weight on his right ankle, it gave way, and he was once more lying face down on the forest floor. He had no chance to try again, for the thing was upon him. Even if he did have a moment, the way his teeth were clenched made it look as though he probably wouldn’t have moved anyway. But then again, judging by the angle of his ankle, this would not have come as a surprise to anyone who had seen it. So he remained motionless, breath coming in shallow bursts, his eyes focused on the ground. But another set of eyes lowered themselves to his. They were luminous, and glittered with a sort of darkness very few animals possessed. Snape caught them with his own, and he seemed to have ceased breathing as he stared into the darkness of that gaze.

     And then, out of the black, came the others, silent as the grave, and he was surrounded. Snape did not look up anymore, and instead focused on a small spider crawling over the sticks on the forest floor, inches from his nose. It scuttled away when a paw twice the size of Snape’s fist landed in front of the Professor’s vision.

    “And who might you be?” said a low, growling voice. “What brings you here?”

         “Professor Snape, I work up at the school,” he said breathlessly, still not daring to look up. “I was following Quirrell.”

    “Is that so?” said the wolf, or so Snape presumed, for he had yet to look up. The wolf started to pace back and forth. “Snape you say … not … Severus Snape?”

    Snape looked up sharply. The wolf was staring at Snape with eyes of steel, a deep scar across the side of his face. His lips were curled back in what could only have been a sneer. From a distance, one would think that he was an ordinary wolf, but his size told otherwise. Professor Snape’s own face became grey, and tinged with green as he watched the wolf’s mouth move with the words - so human, and yet with the sound of a beast running through them.

     “Ah yes … I thought I recognized you,” said the wolf to the others, still sneering. “You’re one of His, aren’t you?”

     Snape seemed unable to open his mouth, nor move.

    “Stand up,” barked the wolf suddenly. Snape suddenly unfroze, and stiffly tried to get to his feet, but his ankle once again gave way. He was left sitting on the forest floor, the great wolf rising above Snape’s head when he was not standing. “Very well then … stay there. Now answer my question. Are you one of the Dark Lord’s?” The final word was said with a low, growling voice.

    “Well …” Snape muttered. It was quite obviously a loaded question. “He is gone, is He not? So I suppose I am not His anymore, am I?”

    “Clever … very clever,” said the wolf, pacing, a scrutinizing look upon his face. “But I don’t believe you. You were on his side once … and therefore cannot be trusted.”

    “And I don’t trust you,” said Snape slowly, and then bravely, he continued. “Who are you?”

    “Who I am now, or who I used to be?” he answered shrewdly.

    “Both,” gambled Snape, an eyebrow slightly raised.

    Cold eyes stared Snape down, but then the wolf answered, “I used to be called Albert Blackburn, but after what happened the year before the Dark Lord fell, all of us here have taken on different names. I am now called Aldhelm, and am the leader of this pack. You had best respect that … if you want to live.”

    Professor Snape looked thoughtful. If the name was familiar to him, he did not show it.

    “You never did know me by name,” spoke Aldhelm, seeming to recognize Snape’s pensive expression for what it was. “Few of us here were well known. Nobody here was overly notorious in our previous lives, not like Fenrir.”

   “Previous lives?” Snape questioned, glancing up sharply at the name Fenrir, eyes ever so slightly wider.

    Some of the wolves laughed. The noise was different from ordinary human laughter. It sounded wrong. The forest dampened the sound quickly.

    “Let’s round him up, he’s been told quite enough for now,” directed Aldhelm, suddenly serious. “We cannot let him go now that’s he’s seen us.”

    “Dumbledore … he knows I’m here. He’ll come after me.”

    “We do not fear him, nor do we fear the Dark Lord, who I am sure you know walks among you in that castle.”

     Snape could not conceal the shock he felt, and a few of the wolves let out more barking laughter.

     Baying, the circle of wolves closed in, the hot, sick breath of each of them making Snape choke slightly. The scent was of blood, and it hung thickly in the air. 

       “Your wand,” said one of the other wolves, teeth bared. Its voice possessed a certain wheezy quality to it.

       Snape hesitated.

       “Wand or life, which do you value more?” it spoke again, teeth inches from Snape’s face. “Try a spell and you’ll be dead before it leaves the wand.”

       Swallowing thickly, Snape handed it over. The wolf took it in his teeth while Aldhelm watched, looking as though he were waiting to speak. And indeed he was.

      “Drag him for now; he’s lame,” barked Aldhelm. “No biting. Not yet. He can walk once I find a suitable walking stick down the way.” The dark, glittering eyes of Aldhelm glanced around at the trees and deadfall, and here there were no branches of the kind he spoke of.

     Before he could protest, Snape let out a sharp breath as two enormous paws landed upon his chest and pushed him onto his back. Another wolf, with its hot breath flowing over Professor Snape’s face, grabbed the back of his robe, careful not to sink its teeth into him.

      “This should be fun,” said a female wolf standing next to the one with the wand in its teeth.

       “Indeed,” another wolf muttered with a slick, oily voice, and then with a howl from Aldhelm they were dragging Snape along the forest floor. All the while Aldhelm watched the trunks of the trees.  Immediately they went down a very steep hill, into thicker brush. Only once they had finished their descent Aldhelm seemed to have found what he was looking for, and with his enormous paws, broke a rare low branch from a tree and pushed it at Snape, who was still on the ground.

      “There. Take it. It’s even ground for a while,” he spat. “I trust you can manage?”

       Silently, Snape did what he was told, noting the number of the wolves as he grabbed a hold of the stick, almost gratefully, and began to carefully limp his way over roots. He could put no weight on the foot, and this probably had something to do with the fact that it was resting at an angle that no ankle should ever be at. He eyed his wand occasionally with a longing look in his eyes.

      “Faster!”

       One of the wolves pushed Snape from behind, its paws landing on his back. He fell from the weight of the animal, getting dirt in his teeth as he hit the ground. The wolves let out those strange, barking laughs while Snape attempted to get up again. It took two tries, but he was back on his feet and leaning on the stick. He spat the grit from his mouth onto the ground and kept going.

     With each step through the forest Snape seemed to grow paler, and over time his eyes became glassy. He struggled with the stick, and made the mistake of putting his bad foot on the ground every so often, making him wobble dangerously. In the night chill the strange group pressed on. A cold sweat had formed on Professor Snape’s face, and tremors seemed to take over him every so often. Whether these were from cold or pain, it was hard to tell. The forest lost what little warmth it had left in it from the spring day, and it became darker the deeper in they went, and despite the moon overhead the light could barely reach them through the thick canopy of trees. Only occasionally would Snape look up and catch a glimpse of it, looming overhead. And once, just once, he dared to glance over at Aldhelm, who was walking along beside him to make sure he didn’t try to make a break for it. His eyes gleamed darkly in the moonlight. Snape looked forward, and did not look at Aldhelm again.

Harry had his arms around his knees, and he pressed his face tightly into the material of his robe. He did not move, and by the harsh breaths being taken in and let out nearby it would have been clear to him that the wolves were still there. Three of the great beasts sat, a ways away from him in a dimly lit cave. The cave was deep, but narrow, and it would have been pitch black if it were not for the small clusters of mushrooms emitting a soft greenish glow. They reflected on the small pools of water here and there. A thin stream ran throughout the cave, and the whole place was very damp. This was clearly getting to Harry, who sat shivering with his socks and trainers wet. He was shaking so badly one would wonder if he was crying, but he would not lift his face from his knees.

       “Who will do the honours of turning him?” said one of the wolves with a deep, rasping growl, and Harry flinched.

       “I imagine Aldhelm will want to do it,” said the other, this one quite obviously female. “He is the strongest, as well as the largest, and will give the boy the best chance at victory. Unless, Angus, you think you should be the one to do the honours?” Her tone was mocking.

         “Shut up Hazel,” Angus said, clearly in a bad mood.

        “How do we know the boy’s got the guts?” said the third wolf in a soft, dangerous voice as it stepped lightly around Harry’s shaking form, surveying him. Harry pushed his face further into his knees as the wolf breathed down his neck. Hazel answered.

        “Aldhelm said that once the boy sees he is one of us he will feel that he has to do it, for he will wish for freedom once more, and once we have victory we will have that in spades.” She lowered her voice and continued, “Between the three of us, I think Aldhelm is foolish to think the boy will switch sides so easily. But, all we will have to do is threaten to bite his friends. He’s a Gryffindor. He’ll do it to save them.” The female wolf crept forward and put her snout close to Harry’s face. “Won’t you, little Harry?”

      “Get away!” was the muffled cry that Harry gave as he scrambled backward, looking up briefly.

      “Did nasty Hazel scare you?” she said in response.

       The wolves let out barking laughs while Harry stole glances at them from over his knees. He was pale as a ghost. The fear on his face was easily read through his confusion over the plans he had heard.

       The wolves quieted down quickly and looked to the mouth of the cave. Harry had his eyes on their ears, which pricked back and forth. Suddenly, the female wolf let out a loud howl, which made Harry jump, his eyes wide. Then, floating with ghostlike quality, there was another howl way off in the distant reaches of the cave, in one of the small tunnels that led into the larger cavern. Quite suddenly everywhere was filled with the sound of baying wolves, and the rest of the pack came flooding in, whooping and crying out to each other in delight. The sound echoed strangely as the howls reverberated off the stone. Amidst the howls of wolves Harry watched tunnel entrance, and something that did not look like a wolf appeared to be coming out into the larger cavern. In the greenish gloom Harry squinted at the form. The thing came into view, and turned out to be Professor Snape, who was limping badly, but still walking. He did so with the help of a large stick, which he gripped in both hands. The largest of the wolves, Aldhelm, wrenched the stick from Snape’s grasp. For a moment Snape stood, and then he wobbled dangerously, and his right ankle gave out, sending him crashing to the stones with a loud crunch. There was a chorus of inhuman  laughter.

      “Sir!” Harry cried suddenly, seeming to have recovered the ability to speak.

         “Guard him too,” were Aldhelm’s instructions to the three wolves, as he towered over Snape, who stirred feebly. “We found him out in the forest. He will be of little use. I believe him to be sympathetic with the Dark Lord. We might as well turn him; perhaps then he will see what a monster Voldemort is.”

                Harry looked up sharply, eyes staring directly at Snape.

    “No ... I was a spy for the light, I do not believe in what he stood for!” said Snape, trying to stand with the help of a large stalagmite, looking panicked and out of his element. The wolves paid no attention, and a few were muttering amongst themselves.

     “Sir, how did you get here?” Harry inquired curiously, taking advantage of the pack’s disinterest.

     “Misfortune,” was all that Snape said in response, having managed to become calm once more.

     “Meddling, that’s what got you here,” growled Aldhelm suddenly, pausing in his pacing back and forth. “But ... you were right to suspect the man you were following.”

     “How so?” Snape dared as Harry perked up.

     “As I have said, Lord Voldemort is here once more,” muttered the wolf, eyes gleaming with anger. “That man is a servant to Him. We want both of them gone. For you see, we have a longstanding  ... grudge, shall we call it, against the Dark Lord. From what I have seen so far, you are not familiar with what He has done to us … what He caused.”

     Snape did not respond, but instead was silent, waiting for Aldhelm to continue. It was clear to see that Aldhelm was in the mood to tell of the injustices laid upon him. He began freely.

     “All of us here,” started Aldhelm, looking weary and filled with regret as he glanced around the cavern at the pack of wolves standing and watching them, “every wolf you see, was once human. I am sure you have been wondering about our miraculous ability to produce human speech. It all began when the Dark Lord was looking for recruits. He welcomed everyone, humans, dementors … and half-breeds alike. Werewolves, in fact. The Dark Lord welcomed us with open arms, and promised us things we could only dream of. He did not allow us into his inner circle, but He promised things far greater than recognition in his army. He promised us purity … to be fully human once more.

 "The Dark Lord claimed he was having a potion made by the best of the best, a potion that would cleanse us of all werewolf blood, and lift the burden of monthly transformations with it. The potion was ours … just an arm’s reach away, and all we had to do was take part in one big job. The goal was to infect the head of the Auror office during the full moon, banishing him from society and causing a brief bit of turmoil that would allow Him to succeed in one of His plots, though He would not tell us what that was. To be bitten was a fate worse than death for the head Auror, but none of us cared, for the prize was beyond our wildest dreams. And all of the wolves you see here believed that for such a difficult task the Dark Lord would honour His promise.” Aldhelm let out a low growl, and then without warning struck out at the rock walls of the cave, his sharp claws biting into the rock with a sound that made both Snape and Harry wince.

      “But it was a fool’s dream,” he said, angry voice strangely grating, like the sound of the claws on rock. “There was never a miracle potion; He knew very well He could never cure our disease. Instead we were given a potion that He had no idea the effects of. We all drank … to health … to prosperity. But when we all woke up, we looked like this. Claws, fangs! We became werewolves forevermore, without the light of the full moon, all hours of the day, for the rest of our lives. The only difference was that we kept our minds, our powers of speech. And since we have done nothing but use those two merciful gifts to plot His downfall. For we knew He survived, we always knew. The forests of Albania were not only His hideout, but ours. We vacated soon after we became aware that we could not destroy Him alone, and now He does not know where we are. But we are right under His nose, and sitting before me is the final step to our plan. For with this new asset, our defeat of Him is inevitable, and then we shall rise to be the new power, and have the promised freedom, so long overdue.”

     Snape -  leaning heavily on  a thick stalagmite -  followed Aldhelm’s gaze, which was on Harry, who was sitting perfectly still and looking ghostly in his pallor.

    “Potter?” he hissed. “How will Potter be your key to power?”

    “He defeated the Dark Lord once, did he not? Everyone says that he has the ability to do it again. There was a rumour in the months before the Dark Lord’s downfall that the one that would vanquish him was drawing near, a prediction some say. I do not know for sure, but the Dark Lord seemed to know what He wanted when He kicked down the Potters’ door.”

    “Sir, what does he mean?” whispered Harry when Snape wobbled  dangerously where he was standing.

    Snape paid no attention to Harry, his hands gripping the stalagmite even harder, until his knuckles were white. “He is just a boy, he cannot defeat him. You are fools to think so.”

    “Really? The boy has already defeated Him once; the rest is only a matter of time,” Aldhelm said quietly, his powerful gaze steadily trained on Harry. “But if this child indeed cannot do what the world says, then so be it. It may well be his destruction. But should he fail to do what so many say he can, there is a school full of youngsters just outside of this forest, and if need be we will bite them all and train an army to take Voldemort down once and for all, and rise to create a new order in which werewolves are given the freedom they deserve.”

   “But how do you propose an eleven year old boy can defeat the Dark Lord, should you even be right that the Dark Lord is present in the school?” inquired Snape.

   Aldhelm chuckled. It was the sort of laugh that chills to the bone. “He will have one thing the Dark Lord does not have … cursed blood. At the full moon in two days’ time I will bite the boy, transforming him permanently into a werewolf. He will be just like us. But the full moon will maximize the transformation, and then we will be one step closer to rising above to take our place. Simple, isn’t it?”

   Harry scrambled back as the wolves began to gnash their teeth. A few laughed harshly, taking joy in scaring him. Aldhelm was staring at Harry with a frightening intensity, and only looked away once Snape limped shakily between him and Harry, barely able to stand, yet somehow upon both feet.

   “You will not be able to go through with this,” said Snape with a low, dangerous voice. “Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard alive, is up in that school. As soon as he finds out, he will have you and your little pack running from this place with your tails between your legs.”

   “You say those words ... but you don’t believe them.” Snape swallowed thickly at Aldhelm’s words. “He can have all the information he wants on where you went, but he won’t find you. Not until it is too late.” Aldhelm grinned, and then with that he spun around. Claws clicking upon the stone, he ran from the cave, calling to a great many of his followers to come with him on business.

 The cave was almost empty again when they had made their retreat, and only about five wolves remained, the same three guarding Harry and Snape. Looking ill, Snape slid down onto a rock nearby.

    “Please Albus … don’t let me down,” he muttered so softly it could barely be heard.

Harry twisted his hands anxiously, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Dumbledore is going to come, isn’t he?” he whispered.

     But Snape could offer no words of comfort. His lips were pressed tightly together, as though he feared to say what was on his mind.

***

Professor McGonagall ran up staircase after staircase, not letting age get in her way at all. The students that were on their way to breakfast paused to stare as she darted past them, seemingly hell-bent for a destination nobody seemed to know as questions followed her. She did not appear to notice the startled looks, or the worried glances.

It was not long until she was careening down the hallway that led to the staff room, and it was even shorter of a time after that that she yanked open the door, and practically threw herself into the room. Dumbledore was sitting with a group of Aurors. Professor Quirrell also sat in an armchair by the fire, a book on his lap, seemingly paying no attention to the little meeting going on.

    “Minerva, what is it?” the Headmaster inquired, looking worried. “Have you found Mr. Potter?”

    “No,” she said breathlessly. “Severus is gone.”

    “What do you mean gone? Surely he is somewhere in the castle …”

    “No, he isn’t,” Professor McGonagall said in disbelief. “I had thought he was in his quarters, and simply forgot that he was supposed to meet with me to discuss one of his students this morning. So, I went down and knocked on his door, and he didn’t answer. Then I got a house-elf to check to see if he was in there, and just unable to hear me, because I was getting rather worried. The house elf said he wasn’t in there, and then I went and asked his Slytherins if they had seen him today, and none of them have, not even a few who had gone to talk to him. They said he was not in his office, and that they waited for fifteen minutes before going to the Great Hall for breakfast.  And, he wasn’t in the Great Hall either.”

     “Oh dear …” muttered Dumbledore, glancing around the room. “Quirinus, go down to Severus’ quarters one last time for me to see if he has showed up since then, will you?”    

      “Yes Headmaster,” said Quirrell, closing his book. He got up and left the room.

      McGonagall closed the door shortly after Quirrell had left. She silently waved her wand at the door and then whirled around.

     “Severus followed Quirrell into the forest last night on my orders,” said Dumbledore in a hushed voice once his audience was looking upon him.

     “Do you think that Quirrell would …”

     “No, I do not believe he has the wit to take Severus down,” muttered Dumbledore. “Severus is by far superior with his spell casting, and there would be no way for Quirrell to catch Severus off guard, given the circumstances. Unless …” Dumbledore turned and stared into the flames of the fireplace for a few moments, thinking aloud. “No … no, Quirrell doesn’t know Severus well enough to know that … I do not believe this is his doing.” He turned to the team of Aurors once he had gathered his thoughts. “I would like your team to search the forest, as well as round up more Aurors. And … bring a few members of the Dangerous Creature Disposal Unit, just in case. One expert will not be enough. Tell the Committee that it is an emergency, and the unit must dispatch immediately. I fear there will not be time for consultation.”

         “It will be done,” said the tallest of the group. “Is that all, Headmaster?”

      Dumbledore nodded, and then wished the Aurors luck as they filed out of the room..

     “Albus … what do you know? What is it that you are not saying?” inquired McGonagall once the room was empty once more, and the door was secure. She gazed upon the Headmaster’s puzzled expression with concern.

      “Severus came to me the night before Harry disappeared. He said he had heard a strange clicking outside his office, and that on the way to tell me something was in the castle, he saw a shadow on the wall. He said it was the shadow … of a werewolf. He was sure of it. I haven’t seen him that scared in years Minerva.” Dumbledore’s voice had begun to shake slightly, and he looked ill at the recollection. “I - I told him he was seeing things, that he should go back to bed. It wasn’t even a full moon, though he thought it was one anyway. You know how he gets with werewolves … but, then Harry disappears … and now Severus. I don’t know what to make of it. But I am to blame for this, Minerva.”

      Professor McGonagall moved toward Professor Dumbledore and put her hand on his arm. “How could you have known there really was something roaming around here, Albus?” she asked him softly, looking up into his sorrowful eyes. “It was late … and like you said, it was not even a full moon. In fact, it still is not a full moon. Everything pointed to Severus simply panicking. I do not blame you, Albus.”

      “But he will, if he makes it out of this.”

      “Then he blames you. But right now, all we can focus on is saving him, and Harry.”

       Dumbledore sighed. “You are right. Thank you, Minerva.”

        There was a knock on the door, and Quirrell entered. “S-Severus is not in his q-q-quarters.”

       “Thank you Quirinus,” said Dumbledore. “Now that that we are sure, I can proceed. Alas we must part - I have business to attend to.”

      And with that he swept out of the room.

      ***

      Night was falling fast as one of the female wolves, Hazel, came charging into the cave. The members of the pack, who had been lying about and chewing on scraps of meat and bones from a deer a few of them had dragged in, looked up sharply, licking their chops.

“The forest is crawling with Ministry people,” spat the wolf that called herself Hazel. She said the word ‘people’ as though it were a disease.

    Harry and Snape looked up sharply, then at each other. It was too dangerous to say anything.

  “What do you mean, crawling with people?” growled Aldhelm, leaping to his feet and dropping the bone he had been gnawing on. There was blood on his snout.

 “They must have decided that we had to be in here,” she explained, not intimidated in the least by Aldhelm, despite the fact that many of the other wolves had frozen at the tone of his voice. “They’re searching the forest almost exclusively.”

  “Really,” said Aldhelm in a dangerously soft voice as he looked to one of the wolves nearby. “And why is that? Perhaps you can answer that, Rolf?”

   “I do not know,” wheezed the rather small wolf. The tip of his ear was missing.

    Aldhelm stood up and took a step closer.

   “Did you leave any traces behind when you and Kellen went to capture the boy?”

    “I thought you said you didn’t leave any evidence!” anxiously cried a thin, mangy looking wolf nearby.

     “Shut up, Kellen,” hissed Rolf. “I didn’t.”

     “You lie to me, Rolf,” Aldhelm whispered as he circled around him. “You were never good at lying. And yet you make it routine to do so. What did you leave behind?”

     Rolf did not say anything. With no warning, Aldhelm launched himself toward Rolf, face contorted and teeth bared. He flipped Rolf onto his back so quickly you could barely see it. Rolf let out a yelp as one giant paw pressed down on his chest, the other upon the throat as Aldhelm’s teeth glinted above his eyes.

     “T-The bag. The boy had a book bag. I think I ripped the canvas on it with my claws,” stuttered Rolf.

     “You imbecile!” roared Aldhelm loudly, making Harry jump along with the rest of the wolves. Snape remained still. “I told you to leave no traces. To be unseen! How else were we supposed to keep the Dark Lord from catching wind that we are behind all this?” But the anger was gone as quick as it came,  and Aldhelm took his paws from on top of Rolf, and began to pace. “This has changed the game entirely.” He paid no attention to Rolf, who was wheezing and cowering not far from him, looking stricken.

     “Nobody leaves this cave,” ordered Aldhelm after a few moments. “I need time to think. Do not bother me.”

      And nobody dared.

The cave was silent. The night had passed slowly, with Aldhelm pacing back and forth, thinking. But now, it was daytime, and the members of the wolf pack were sleeping soundly, as they were nocturnal. Despite the little sleep, Snape and Harry were wide awake. Worry was written on both of their faces, though Snape showed it less. Every so often the fear would shine through in his eyes, but he was careful not to let Harry see. The steady trickle of running water from a small stream filled what would have been silence. The sound was not distraction enough for Snape, who was busy studying a stalactite up above. He watched as water collected in small drops, and continued to observe them until they fell with soft noises upon the rock floor. Snape did this for a very long time. His brows were furrowed, a look of deep thought upon his face. He only looked away from the droplets of water to observe the two wolves guarding them. The guards were Rolf, and Kellen. Kellen was taking his turn to sleep, and Rolf seemed rather bored as he stared at a glowing mushroom. His back was turned to the two prisoners. As though something had suddenly made sense to him, Snape’s face was thrown into sharp relief as his brows unfurrowed. Glancing one last time at the guards, a clever glint in his eye, he reached very quietly into his cloak. The sounds of the running water masked any noise that he did make. With great care he extracted a piece of parchment deep from within his pocket, as well as a thin fabric case, rather like one that holds pencils. He put the parchment on a rock beside him, and then opened the  fabric case. Delicately, he pulled from it a short quill and a small ink pot. Snape was unscrewing the cap on the ink when Harry opened his mouth to speak. Snape saw this, and put a finger to his lips for a moment before pointing at the quill. Harry patiently waited while his professor loaded the quill and began to write with care.

      This is important Potter, so be quiet, he wrote. Harry obeyed, and sat in rapt attention as his professor continued to scribble words onto the parchment.  I need you to promise me something.

     Snape looked up at Harry, who nodded for him to continue. He set the quill on the parchment again, only after making sure the scratching of the quill was not heard by the guards.

     I may be able to find a way to get you out, perhaps both of us. I am working on a plan. They have threatened to bite us both, for some reason or another. I will do everything to make sure you are not bitten. Dumbledore expects this of me. Right now there are probably people from the Dangerous Creature Disposal Unit to deal with this new breed of werewolf. Should I get bitten in an escape, or an attempt to spare you, you must lie to the D.C.D.U, the Ministry of Magic, as well as the staff here at Hogwarts, and say that I am dead. Do not tell them, under any circumstances, that I was bitten. Only one person can know the truth. Tell Dumbledore, but him alone if I have been bitten. It is a large request, but you must do this. Do you understand?

Snape watched as Harry’s eyes took in the words, revealed by the dim light of a cluster of green fungi. Harry held out his hand for the quill, and Snape set it in his palm.

       Harry dipped the quill in ink. He held the quill tip on the parchment for a few moments, hesitating. He looked up into Snape’s urgent gaze. Looking weary, he asked only one simply thing: Why?

      Once Harry handed Snape the quill once more, he responded with, This new breed of werewolf is highly dangerous. The D.C.D.U will not stop until they are eradicated. The situation will not end in negotiations, you must trust me on that. If something goes wrong the only way for me to survive would be for the world to believe I am dead, save Dumbledore. Will you promise me that you will tell them this, no matter what?

      Harry looked fearfully into Snape’s pleading eyes. Finally, he nodded, and mouthed, “I promise.”

      Snape nodded slowly, a look of gratitude on his face. Harry opened his hand for the quill, one last time. Snape gave it to him.

      He wrote, Promise you won’t let anyone kill me if I get bitten? Just in case? He held the quill out to Snape, who took it carefully before answering it in his own slanting scrawl.

       I promise to keep you safe.

       Snape stowed the quill, ink, and parchment in his robes once more, the silent agreement hanging in the air like a grey cloud. It should have made the two feel lighter, but the worried eyes and clenched jaws said otherwise.

 ***

       So far, no plans of an escape had been spoken of, at least between Harry and Snape. The days passed far too quickly, until the full moon was only two nights away. The environment made it difficult for any escape to be planned, thanks to the werewolves being wall to wall in the cave, and the constant guards. There was at least two at all times, almost always Rolf and Kellen.  In addition to all of this, threats were made if Harry or Snape tried to talk to each other, even just to say a trivial word here or there. It made life even more harsh and difficult there in the cave, and the signs of this had very much begun to show in the weary faces of the two prisoners.

   It was day again, and the pack was asleep. This was with the exception of the two wolves on guard, and Professor Snape. He had opened his mouth to talk to the guards, who at the moment seemed too tired to tell him to shut up. His words were so quiet that they barely rose above the sound of the running water in the cave, but Rolf and Kellen seemed to hear them well.

      “Did he put you two on guard permanently?” inquired Snape.

       Rolf, who appeared to have grown bored, threw caution to the winds. “Yes. He doesn’t trust us to leave anymore. Thinks we’ll give him away.”

      “You shouldn’t be talking to him!” hissed Kellen, glancing here and there. “The sun’s almost gone down.”

      “I don’t see how talking to the prisoner can cause any more harm than I have managed to cause already,” said Rolf, rolling his eyes. He lowered his voice further and glanced over at Snape. “At least he’s civil.” Rolf’s ears fell flat against his head as his eyes strayed to Aldhelm. He quickly looked away.

       Kellen muttered something about being sorry if Aldhelm found out.

      “Go to sleep. It’s your turn now. Besides, you worry too much.” Kellen didn’t look like he wanted to sleep in the least.

      “Perhaps he is right to worry,” said Snape slowly. “Your leader seems … a bit dangerous.”

      “A bit? That’s the understatement of the century,” scoffed Rolf.

      “Rolf” wined Kellen.

      Rolf did not pay any attention to him.

      “I certainly do not wish to be around him any more than I have to,” muttered Snape as Harry let out a soft snore nearby, finally asleep in the silence of the cave.

      “That was not the only thing he did to me you know,” Rolf replied in earnest. “See my ear? The right one.”

      “Did he do that?” said Snape, looking shocked as he stared at the missing tip on Rolf’s right ear. His shock didn’t seem entirely genuine, but Rolf did not notice.

         He nodded. “Yes. Awful, isn’t it? He simply sunk his teeth into me about six months ago, no questions asked. Aldhelm thought that I was the one who had gone into a village and killed a pig. It made quite a ruckus.”

       “And he blamed you for it?”

      “Yes he did. Even though it wasn’t me at all. It was really Hazel. But he’d never suspect her, what with her flattery.”

      “But you took the blame for it. That is horrible.”

      “I quite agree,” sniffed Rolf. “And he’s supposed to be finding a way to destroy the Dark Lord, not how to become Him.”

      “What’s making you stay, with Aldhelm the way he is?” Snape inquired casually. “From what I’ve gathered, you’re clever enough to escape.”

       Rolf moved a pebble around on the ground with his paw. “I don’t really know. I’m not afraid of him, and I’m not really afraid of what he could do to me if I try to leave. I guess I just don’t have anywhere to go, you know?”

      Snape nodded, looking distant for a second.

     “I know someone who would understand your situation to some degree,” muttered Professor Snape. “He’s a werewolf himself, though not all the time like you are, and he may have some insight, or suggestions as to where you could go if you left. Our side can hide you better than you could ever imagine.”

     Rolf’s ears pricked up.

    “Quit listening to this!” warned Kellen. Rolf spun around, teeth bared.

     “Kellen, I promise that I’ll tell Aldhelm that the professor possessed by the Dark Lord saw you, when we were up at the school. Or, I’ll kill you. I would be the victor in a fight with you, and you know that.” Kellen backed down and lay upon his belly, snout in his paws. Rolf looked satisfied. He looked over to Snape. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You were saying?”

    “We could hide you, myself and the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, I mean,” Snape said in a low voice. “The Order hasn’t been assembled in years, but there are a few I would be able to get in touch with. I am sure someone would be willing to hide you.”

     “And they wouldn’t … look down on me, because of what I am?” he whispered, fervently glancing around the room to make sure everyone was still asleep.

     “No, a known werewolf was part of the Order back in the day, and … everyone treated him decently,” said Professor Snape. He cleared his throat slightly. “In fact, that is the man that I speak of when I say that I know someone who can help you. If anyone can, it is him.”

     “What’s the catch?” inquired Rolf suddenly.

     Snape raised an eyebrow. “Well, you would have to get me out of here first. I cannot do it alone … not without my wand. If you were to get it for me, and help me to escape, I would be able to help you out. I cannot do a thing while trapped in this cave.”

     Rolf appeared to be thinking deeply. “And the boy? What of him?”

     “He comes too,” said Snape firmly. “I shall want his wand as well, if you can get it. Though it is not imperative, as he has not been practising magic long and could become accustomed to a new one easily.”

      Kellen’s eyes had grown wide. Rolf shot him a look that clearly said he would kill him if he said anything.

      “And you promise that you will help me?” whispered Rolf, glancing around.

      “I promise,” said Snape. “Would you like to shake on it?”

      He held out his hand, and Rolf paused for a moment. He took a deep breath and set his paw in Snape’s hand.

       “Tomorrow,”  Rolf mouthed as Harry started to stir, waking up.

     This had been the most Harry had slept in a while. The reason was that Harry had not dared to sleep while the wolves were awake, despite it being night while the wolves were alert. The shadows under Snape’s eyes told a similar story. The indifferent silence between the Professor and Rolf fell over them once more while Snape observed Harry, who was just opening his eyes. In a few minutes it seemed as though the whole cave was stirring. Harry, now awake, moved almost imperceptibly closer to Snape when he saw the wolves stretching and yawning, their jagged grins flashing across the cave.

            Kellen avoided everyone’s eyes, and finally went to sleep, leaving Rolf to guard. Now that the wolves were awake the cave was a flurry of movement. It was easy to tell that the pack was getting restless, still cooped up and waiting for the woods to empty out a little. Aldhelm looked even less pleased with the predicament than he was earlier. 

         “Gather around,” he barked at everyone after a few minutes of the wolves pacing around. Kellen jolted awake, looking startled.

         All of the wolves obeyed immediately, and Harry shot Snape a curious expression, clearly asking if he knew what was going on. Snape shook his head and then trained his eyes on the circle of wolves in the centre of the cave. They were difficult to make out, but the greenish glow from the mushrooms reflected in their eyes.

        “It is clear to me now that the search party is going to remain in the area longer than we anticipated,” announced Aldhelm. “ Therefore, we need to set a false trail to get them to the far side of the forest. Otherwise, we have no hope of positioning the boy outdoors so that the transformation is completed to the maximum capacity.”

         “What sort of diversion?” asked one of the wolves in a rather low voice.

         “If you will listen, I shall tell you,” hissed Aldhelm.

          “Sorry sir,” said the wolf who spoke.

         Aldhelm’s glowing eyes were glaring at the wolf, but after a moment he seemed to move past what had been said, and once more became engrossed in his plan. “I will get an object or a scrap of clothing that clearly belongs to the prisoners, and then get the fastest and stealthiest of you to take it to the far side of the forest to plant tonight. It should be hidden just well enough so that they discover it sometime during the day tomorrow. They will then focus their search party on that area, leaving this area of the woods clear, or at least clearer than it would have been. We can take on a few wizards, but not in the numbers we currently have nearby.”

       “They won’t find the cave, will they?” asked Kellen anxiously.

       “No, it is well hidden,” said Aldhelm quickly before moving to more pressing matters. “Hazel, you will plant the objects later on tonight. You are by far the most skilled candidate.”

       “Yes sir,” she said, sinking into a sort of wolfish bow. “It is an honour.”

       “You must be there and back before the sun rises. They must discover the objects and be drawn from this place before night falls once more. And when the full moon rises tomorrow night, we take the boy out of the cave to bite him, and we shall have the final piece that will make it possible for us to take back our freedom.”

       There were a few paws scratching against the stone in concurrence with Aldhelm’s statement, for there was no sense in being loud and giving the location of the cave away.

      “Brynn, Elsa, you are on hunting duties. Do not jeopardize our position for the kill, unless you can take the person down discreetly.”

       Two wolves stepped out of the circle, one a burly male, the other a sly looking female. They also lowered themselves in a sort of bow before Aldhelm, and then slipped into the darkness and to the tunnel that led outside.

       “Now, we need something that the search party will recognize,” muttered Aldhelm, though his voice could easily be heard where Snape and Harry were sitting. He turned suddenly toward the duo, eyes gleaming.

       “Boy, give me your dressing gown.”

       Snape nudged Harry sharply when he did not move.

        Harry shrugged it off, shivering slightly in the cave with nothing but his pyjamas.

       Aldhelm took the material in his jaws, one paw on the sleeve, and then shook the dressing gown with great force, as though it were some sort of prey. He ripped a good piece of the fabric off and tossed it toward Hazel, leaving the rest of the crumpled dressing gown at his feet. Harry didn’t make a move to pick it up, what with the entirety of the pack’s eyes trained on him and Snape.

      “That is one … now you,” he glared at Snape. “Give me one of your boots.”

       “The others might recognize the fabric of my cloak better,” Snape responded.

       “No, you can give me one of those boots,” growled Aldhelm, taking a step closer. “Doesn’t look like you’ll need that one. Doubt you’ll fit it back on that swollen ankle of yours. Face it Snape, you’re going nowhere fast.” Despite his hesitance, Professor Snape’s face remained emotionless as he handed the boot over. Aldhelm took it in his teeth and tossed it over to Hazel, who nudged the piece of material from Harry’s dressing gown into it for the journey.

       “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

      As soon as Aldhelm had turned it was clear that Snape was angry, but the flash of anger was gone in a moment. In the meantime Aldhelm commanded Hazel to begin her journey, as it was likely to take a long time to reach the other side of the forest undetected. Snape reached his arm out and snatched Harry’s dressing gown off of the stone. He dusted it off forcefully before shoving it into the boy’s arms.

      “Put it on, before you catch your death of cold.”

        Harry, rather surprised, scrambled to obey. Rolf and Snape exchanged glances while all the wolves were still paying attention to Aldhelm.

Hazel returned a few hours before dawn, looking exhausted. She said that she had accomplished what she had set out to do, and this news did not seem to improve the morale of the two prisoners in the cave, nor of Rolf. But none of the other wolves commented on his lack of appetite when Brynn and Elsa dragged some game into the dim cave. Most of the animals had been driven deeper into the depths of the forest due to the number of people searching the trees, and so the number of kills that day were not satisfactory. What little game had been caught was divided amongst the pack. Despite having been given a few stale hunks of stolen bread, Snape and Harry did not eat. They looked as though they would not have eaten the finest meal in the world. The steady drip drip of the water in the cave seemed to have become constant reminder that time was running out. The wands would have to be reclaimed when the pack had gone to sleep during daylight hours, for if they were not taken then, the full moon would rise and the very worst would happen.

      Harry and Professor Snape were silent as the grave, both with looks of anxiety upon their faces. It was a long time before the both of them fell into a restless sleep. It was even longer of a time before Rolf nudged Professor Snape awake, and dropped two wands into his lap after glancing fervently around the cavern. The other werewolves were sleeping, and there was no movement in the cave except for Snape and Rolf.

     “You have no idea how hard it was to get those,” Rolf whispered into the Professor’s ear. “Come on, we don’t have much time. It’s almost sundown.”

      Snape nodded in thanks and shook Harry awake. Harry opened his eyes blearily, and rubbed them beneath his glasses. Rolf waited expectantly while they both got up. Professor Snape was wincing and leaning heavily on a stalactite, standing on his good leg. His ankle was in very bad shape, and the days of sitting in the damp cold of the cave had done nothing for it.

    “No use. It’s broken.” Snape muttered. He looked around for a moment, and then raised his wand. “Muffliato,” he whispered.

     “What does that do?” Harry said, voice barely audible. Harry looked glad to see that Snape had his wand back.

     “Makes it so others cannot overhear us.”

     “Why?”

     “Because we’re trying to escape, you daft boy.”

     He then slid down against the stalactite in a sitting position. He pulled off his sock and lifted up his robe so that his ankle was free of anything. It was swollen badly, and crooked. His skin became grey at the sight of it. Harry looked surprised to see that the injury was so severe. His Professor had not been acting as though he was hurt too badly.

         “This won’t sound nice,” Snape warned Rolf and Harry, still talking in a low voice despite there being no danger of being overheard. Bewildered, Harry watched. Snape waved his wand to do a nonverbal spell, and at the same time he bit down on his fist. There was a very loud crack and the ankle straightened. Professor Snape only grunted slightly around his hand. Both Harry and Rolf winced. Panting, Snape then let both hands fall to his side as he slumped against the stalactite. Shaking, he waved his wand once more, and the ankle glowed blue.

     “Is it healed?” Harry asked curiously in a whisper. The ankle was still swollen and bruised, and did not look all that much different, other than the fact that it was straight again.

     “The bone yes,” Professor Snape replied rather breathlessly as he watched as a hint of blood appeared on his knuckles, where the teeth marks were. “But it was left so long that the swelling and bruising will need a few potions, and a salve.”

      “Can you walk on it?” Rolf inquired hastily.

       Snape nodded, getting to his feet. It looked as though it were still a bit sore, though significantly better.

       “I’m sorry he took your boot,” Rolf muttered. Snape didn’t seem to pay any attention.

       “Go,” he muttered to them both, nudging Harry forward. Rolf led the way. “Careful not to tread on any of them.”

       Cautiously, in the dim green light the trio wound around the sleeping wolves, being very careful not to step too heavily or brush up against any of them. They were spaced very close together, and on more than one occasion Rolf had to nod in the direction of a paw or tail hidden in shadow. Somehow, they reached the tunnel that led to the outside. Snape glanced behind him as he ducked down slightly before entering the dark passage. After travelling for some time over the damp, uneven ground, they emerged from the stone prison, and stood on the soft forest floor. The trees towered over them, and obscured much of the sky. The horizon blazed in all its glory as the sun fell further in the sky. Night was coming fast. Everyone seemed grateful to be free of the stale air of the cave.

      There were no people in sight. They had long since vacated the area to narrow their search to the other side of the forest. The plan had worked. But this was only good news for Aldhelm.

          “They’ll be waking any moment, we have to move!” Rolf hissed at Snape, who was wincing and trying not to put his full weight on his right ankle. So, despite the obvious pain it was causing him, Snape started forward. It was as though Rolf’s words had begun a fire within him, and he moved forward with a kind of determination that seemed to have been absent in the cave. They began to jog through the forest. Harry ran ahead of Snape, as he was faster. The party of three sped through the trees, Snape occasionally slowing them down thanks to having only one boot, and nothing but a sock to protect his foot. Still they pressed on. They dodged tree limbs and roots while the sky darkened above them.

         They had to have been approximately halfway out of the forest, and that was when - from somewhere in the depths of the trees behind them - an unnatural howl sounded. It was far away, but it was enough to make fear emerge on their faces for the first time.

      “Faster!” cried Rolf, running next to Harry. Snape, who looked very pale in the dim light, sped up despite his limp. He gritted his teeth, and they kept running. He momentarily caught up to Harry and Rolf, and raised his wand. A silver doe burst forth, its light seeming like an explosion in the growing darkness. It too galloped beside them. At its appearance, some of the lines on Snape’s face temporarily relaxed.

     “Lead Albus and the search crew to us.  Tell him there are werewolves in the forest, and that they stay werewolves longer than the full moon,” Snape gasped to the patronus as Harry watched curiously, a mixture of wonder and surprise on his face,

      The doe sped off with unnatural speed, leaving the party of three to navigate the forest, the sounds of howls echoing through the trees behind them.

      “What was that?” gasped Harry, clutching a stitch in his side.

       Snape just shook his head. There was a greyish sheen to his skin.

       Through the trees they continued, trying to escape before it was too late, the howls and crashing brush behind them the only thing keeping them moving. The sounds grew louder, and escape was not certain. Suddenly, a sound cried out above every other noise, and the shrill cry came from Rolf. Snape and Harry stumbled to a halt, gasping. Rolf was lying on the forest floor. Harry took a step back and gulped when he saw the blood running down Rolf’s furry snout, running from his eye. He had gouged it on a low branch. The werewolf’s breathing was laboured and quick, and he was shaking badly on the forest floor, drops of blood splattering the leaves.

      “I can’t see where I’m going like this,” Rolf gasped frantically, panicking. “I won’t make it. I’ll never outrun them like this!”

       “Rolf, eyes are tricky business to heal …” the Professor began, sounding grave and looking anywhere but at the wolf on the forest floor with his fur full of crimson.

     Rolf took a deep shuddering breath, blinking, gritting his teeth. It was clear he was in the middle of a dilemma.

      “I - I’ll send them another direction when they get here. Run!” Rolf cried, shaking like the wind battered tree limbs above them. Snape nodded upon hearing the urgency in Rolf’s voice. Harry did not move, and looked as though he wished to say something, but Professor Snape grabbed a hold of his arm and dragged him away.

       A few minutes later there was a high pitched yelp far behind them. Harry tried to stop once more, but Snape pulled him along, his eyes saying all. Saying that there was nothing to be done. That it was too late. Harry looked sick as they continued to run. Professor Snape looked no better, though this was probably more to do with the limp, for with every step he grew paler. They sped through the trees despite the growing fatigue that made their feet clumsy and slow. The trees rustled in the wind as though they too were reacting to chilling sounds of the howls. A white rabbit darted across the path in front of Harry and Snape, just as the edge of the forest came into view a few feet ahead. 

      Harry, whose feet clomped heavily on the forest floor, sped up slightly at the sight of the clearing. With sudden strength he burst out of the trees. But he heard Snape give a shout, and he whirled around just in time to see him trip over a log and slide to a halt on the edge of the trees.

     “Sir, look out!” cried Harry as a wolf shot out of the darkness, its eyes gleaming. Snape’s wand had flown out of his hand.

     It was Kellen. He stared angrily down at Snape, who was on the ground, clutching his ankle.

      “I told them you went this way, but they didn’t listen,” spat Kellen to Snape, eyes seeming to burn right through him. He had yet to see Harry. “I should never have trusted Rolf ... the traitor. And you will pay for it.” The rage made the wolf unrecognizable. He was nothing like the Kellen in the cave; the eyes of this wolf gleamed and lusted for blood, his killer instincts having fully taken over.

      “Leave me be!” Snape growled. Kellen thought it was meant for him, which he was supposed to think, but the split second of eye contact between Snape and Harry told who it was really for.

       Kellen just laughed, and Harry hesitated. But he turned and ran as the sense of urgency on Snape’s face increased. Kellen was not alerted to the presence of a second person, and only saw Snape. Harry ran as hard as he could, but he was tired, and had trouble moving quickly. He looked around desperately, looking for someone, anyone. He was lucky enough to make it up over a hill without being seen. As he started to go down the other side of the hill, with a small gasp of relief, Harry saw a group of six men from the Dangerous Creature Disposal Unit rushing toward him. There were red crests sewn to the front of their robes

      “There are werewolves, they’re in the forest,” Harry panted. “One of them ... it ...”

       “Keep going this way, son,” said one of the five people as they hurried toward the trees. “The Aurors are a few minutes behind us. Stay with them when you find them.” They did not bother to stop, but continued running, and entered the trees much further to the right than Harry had come from. And Harry was not fast enough to catch them.

       “Wait!” Harry cried, stumbling to the crest of the hill once more.“It’s Professor Snape ...”

       His steps faltered, until he was still. It was too late. He could not catch them, and he had not said what he had needed to in time. The group had missed Snape, having gone too far to the right side to see him. The colour draining from Harry’s face, he blatantly disobeyed the orders of the men, and started to run back to where he saw Snape last. He didn’t appear to consider the fact that Kellen, a fully-fledged werewolf, was there too. He should have been reminded of this, for the newly risen moon, full and bright, lit his way as he rushed down the side of the hill and to the edge of the forest. Instead his feet did the thinking.

      “Sir,” Harry said breathlessly, relief written on his face. Snape was kneeling, the prone form of Kellen lying nearby, clearly dead.

       “Go,” said Snape hoarsely. “Get away ... you can’t be here.”

       “Come on, we have to get to the castle.”

        There was no answer.

        “Professor?”

          Something dark was on Professor Snape’s hand. At first Harry thought it was dirt, but the moonlight illuminated it for Harry to see. It wasn’t dirt, it was blood. And then Harry saw the bite.

       “Get away from me!” Snape shouted frantically, stumbling and falling as his face started to change before Harry’s eyes. His ears grew pointed, his fingernails sharpened to claws. His eyes grew deep and wild.

       And the change had barely begun when it was finished. The transformation was complete, but Snape did not move. He stood there, trembling, wolfish eyes wide, coat – almost completely black - gleaming in the moonlight. He looked every bit like the others, except for the darker fur, and ears that were slightly more tufted.

       “Professor Snape?” Harry whispered.

       Harry took a step forward.

         “No …” said the wolfish voice, half Snape, half beast. His voice hitched as he tried to speak once more.

        It was as though hearing his voice had shaken him to his senses, and Snape took a step back with such speed it was as though he had been burned. His paws rustled the dirt and leaves of the forest floor. Then, without another word, he turned and launched himself into the darkness of the forest, and ran as though the devil was on his heels. Like he was trying to outrun even himself. Harry heard a long howl, trailing off into the forest. But it was not like any wolf baying to the moon; it was the painful sound of someone’s world falling down around them.

        Harry remained, fixed to the spot as the minutes slowly slid by, eyes still staring into the trees. Deep in the forest rang the shouting of spells, and the fighting sounds of wolves yelping and growling. In time the sound of footsteps on the ground sounded behind Harry. He didn’t bother to turn around.

       “Harry, thank goodness,” Hagrid said, extremely relieved. He put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Come on. It’s not safe out here. Wouldn’ want ya ter get bit by summat.”

       Much to Hagrid’s shock, Harry said nothing, but instead hung his head, and let the tears fall while the moonlight washed over them.

      “Come back ter me hut for a while. It’s closest, I’ll make ya some tea,” Hagrid said softly as he led Harry by the shoulders.

        ***

     Harry awoke with a jolt. He was curled up in an armchair in Hagrid’s hut. He had fallen asleep shortly after getting there, not even able to say a word about the whole thing.

     Hagrid was not inside. The sun was just starting to come up, and Harry perked up at the sound of voices outside.  He got up quickly from the chair. Fang whimpered slightly as Harry made for the door. Harry did not pay any attention to this however, for he had already shut the door behind him. He was standing on the steps that led up into Hagrid’s hut, and watched as a long line of wolves, muzzled and chained were led by the tired looking Dangerous Creature Disposal Unit. Neither Rolf nor Snape were walking amongst them. Harry closed his eyes tightly as though he were willing the world away, his pale face standing out starkly against the dark bricks of the hut behind him. A whisper escaped from his trembling lips, his shaking voice barely audible.       

  “N-No matter what,” he told himself, his eyes closed tightly.       

       When he opened his eyes, he looked like he was going to be sick. But he walked over to Hagrid anyway, who was standing a little ways from the forest edge and watching the proceedings. Harry’s hands fiddled with the sleeve on his dressing gown, which was still torn and grimy from the cave.

        “There yeh are,” Hagrid said with a big smile when Harry came into view. Harry couldn’t quite return the smile, and few visible lines on Hagrid’s face crinkled with worry. “You don’t look ter be feelin’ much better. What’s wrong?”

   He just shook his head, watching the Dangerous Creature Disposal Unit take the chains that held the wolves and bind them to the ground, so that all the wolves stood in a line.

    “Mr. Potter, may I ask you a few questions?” asked one of the members of the D.C.D.U. He looked like he was in charge.

     Harry did not seem surprised in the least, and after a moment, nodded in response.

     “Thank you. Now, I suppose I shall get straight to business. First of all, the wolf with the torn ear was found dead, so it is not here, but other than that, can you tell me if there are any more wolves than the ones you see lined up here?”

     Harry paled further, but continued to stare determinedly at the line.

     “That’s all of them sir,” he croaked.

    “And what about Professor Snape? Where is he?  He has yet to be found.”

     Harry hesitated slightly, and glanced past the man. His leg twitched as he barely stopped himself from stepping back. There was a pair of eyes staring out from within the bushes on the forest edge. Harry swallowed.

      “He’s d-dead,” he managed.

        There was a flash of a tail, and the eyes were gone.

       “I’m sorry to hear,” said the man, face grim as Harry looked back at him.

      “Dead?” cried Hagrid, shocked.

      Harry bowed his head, looking at his feet.

     Hagrid’s question was lost on the others, for the D.C.D.U was lining up, one person for each werewolf. Harry looked up, anxiety written on his face.

     “Don’t worry son,” said the leader gently. “We’re just using a spell to put them to sleep for a little while, so we can transport them to a safe facility.”

     Harry nodded his head mechanically.

      “Ready … and, fire,” called the leader. Hagrid looked away as spells shot from the wands. The flash of green lit up the edges of the forest, and the wolves crumpled in a line, one by one. Harry watched them drop, the rushing noise still in the air.

      Somewhere, concealed by a few feet of brush, Snape watched too. His ears had flattened against his head, and he stood frozen for a few seconds before turning and running further into the depths of the forbidden forest.

     “Hagrid?” whispered Harry. “Do you know where Professor Dumbledore is? I have to tell him something.”

     “I should be able ter find him,” Hagrid said kindly, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Come with me, lad.”

        So the two turned their backs against the line of wolves upon the ground, and neither looked back.

        Snape did.

A thick fog rolled in over the grounds of Hogwarts for some time. It was a heavy grey mist, and it floated over the windows like a veil, giving the illusion that Hogwarts was covered in a damp, thick blanket. With it came a strange sort of silence, and within the castle this silence seemed to have fallen as well. It was as though the feeling that the fog brought made it difficult for anyone to speak. Of course the fog was not entirely the cause of the silence, for it only enhanced the hush that was brought with the grave news that spread throughout Hogwarts. For Harry had talked to Dumbledore behind closed doors, and it was agreed that the following morning the students were to be told that death had descended upon the castle. That Professor Snape was dead. And so, they were told. Pinched faces and wide, troubled eyes had filled the hall at breakfast the morning the news was given, the grey mass of fog swirling overhead. Clocks seemed to stand still, and the banners in the Great Hall hung black. Yet, despite the clocks seeming to have stopped, time passed. The years marched on, and on, until only two classes at Hogwarts remembered the black casket being lowered into the ground, and the sound of rain on the lake beginning as the colour grey descended over them. Back then, the muddy ground over the grave was brown. Now, green grass covered it. The years had dulled the stone marker, and even the recollections of the sneer that belonged to Severus Snape became fuzzy with time, should you have chosen to ask any of those who knew him.

Yet, he was not gone. But only Harry and Dumbledore knew that. There were reminders everywhere of this, even if nobody else recognized them for what they were.

   There came a night, very still, very dark. A night exactly like those that the younger ones warned each other about when they whispered past curfew, telling hushed stories that had long ago sprouted from the things that happened on nights of the darkest kind. And Harry was restless, his eyes troubled. Almost recklessly, he snatched up his invisibility cloak and tucked it under his arm. The common room was silent as the grave, and Harry was just about to unfold his cloak and push open the portrait hole, when someone spoke.

 “Harry, don’t!” whispered a young boy, looking to be about twelve. Harry seemed a little surprised to see someone so young up so late, or to find anyone up at all, in fact.  

 “Hello Jason, I didn’t see you there,” Harry said calmly, turning, keeping the cloak safely behind his back. “It’s awfully late. Couldn’t sleep?

 “Harry, don’t go out. That … that thing will follow you.” Nervous and twisting the hem of his pyjama shirt, Jason stared wide eyed at Harry.

  Harry smiled in mild amusement. “I do not fear it, if that’s what you mean.”

 “But, it’ll follow you around wherever you go until -”

 “Until I go to bed, yeah,” Harry said. “I am familiar with the story.”

 “Aren’t you worried?” Jason whispered, in awe of Harry’s bravery.

 “No,” Harry replied simply.

 “Why not?”

 “Well, first of all, that ‘thing’ as you call it, always keeps its distance. Besides, have you ever noticed that the stories never say that someone was hurt by it, or has even seen it for that matter? People only ever claim to hear it.”

 “Yeah. But it is there, whatever it is.”

 “Of course. But you see … I rather like to think that on the quiet nights it wanders the halls, whatever it is just likes to make sure students stay safe at night. That’s why it never gets close, see?”

 “Maybe,” Jason said, looking rather thoughtful.

 “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

 Jason sighed. “Where are you going?”

 “Oh, just around,” said Harry. “I can’t sleep either.”

 “Okay. Well, I think I’ll go to bed.”

 “Good night then,” Harry said, stepping out of the portrait hole as Jason went up the boys’ staircase.

 “G’ night Harry, and be careful, okay?” Jason called over to Harry as he pushed open the portrait hole.

 “I will be.”

 Harry threw his invisibility cloak over himself as he went out into the corridor, chuckling slightly. Quietly he crept through the hallways, his invisibility cloak safely covering him. The cloak seemed considerably smaller on him now than it had his first year. Sometimes, if you really looked, and Harry wasn’t being as careful as he should, you could see a thin dark flash as he went around corners. A trainer, perhaps. But this was extremely hard to see, for the night was still and black. The soft sounds that Harry created as he crept down the halls were the only noises to be heard for some time. After a while however, Harry’s feet stopped moving. Beneath the invisibility cloak he rolled his eyes, though he seemed mildly amused. There was a light shuffling noise a ways behind him. Although there was no light to show what it was, Harry did not look too concerned, and did not even bother to pull out his wand to shed some light. He reached into his pocket to grab something, and Harry then thrust his arm outside of the cloak. He opened his hand, and something fell with a small clap upon the floor. Harry travelled forward with leisurely steps, until he was a fair distance away, and in a moment a soft clicking echoed behind him through the corridor. The clicking stopped near the object, which was a dog biscuit, of all things.

 “Oh, very clever,” a familiar voice drawled sardonically from within the darkness. “You shouldn’t be here.”

 “And neither should you.”

 “I am well aware of that. Now go back to bed, you delinquent.”

 Surprisingly, Harry held back a laugh, and then he good naturedly started slowly toward Gryffindor tower. “Git,” he muttered under his breath almost fondly.

 “I heard that.”

 “Of course you did. It’s good to see you, by the way.” Harry paused in his steps to look over his shoulder for a few moments.

 “It’s too dark here for me to be seen, you daft boy. Unless of course you also have night vision?”   Despite the rather biting words, the voice had a very small hint of amusement to it.

 “You know what I mean. Say hello to Dumbledore for me.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be very pleased to know that you’ve been out of bed again!”

 Shaking his head with amusement, Harry swept around the corner. The sounds of his footsteps died away. The corridor remained completely quiet for a moment or two, until the crunching noise of a biscuit being chewed up punctuated the silence.