The moonlight was bright, and standing outside the shadows of the trees, Severus Snape didn't need to light his wand to clearly see the intricate patterns on the Whomping Willow's trunk.
As his footsteps drew closer to the dangerous tree, its low-hanging branches began to sway gently, rustling softly as if sensing his presence.
When he was about twenty feet from the Whomping Willow, its branches suddenly creaked and thrashed as if caught in a fierce wind, whipping back and forth to block his approach.
A thick branch swung menacingly through the air, hurtling toward him. Snape swiftly raised his wand, flicking his wrist—
A stone shot up from the ground and, under his command, wove nimbly through the air like a darting fish, slipping between the thrashing branches and pressing precisely against a knot on the tree's trunk.
A gust of wind blew past, but the tree froze. It stood as still as stone, not a single leaf trembling.
Snape nodded with satisfaction, maintaining control over the stone as he strode quickly to the trunk and ducked into the large opening between its roots.
The tunnel was pitch black. Snape lit his wand, illuminating damp earthen walls and a tattered spiderweb.
He crawled forward, sliding down a muddy slope to the bottom of a very low tunnel.
The air was thick with the smell of earth and mold. Snape wrinkled his nose but pressed on, crouching low as his robes dragged through the dirt and cobwebs.
The tunnel stretched onward, his wand's light steadily cutting through the darkness, illuminating the path a few feet ahead.
At the bottom, the dirt path began to slope upward again. After a while, it curved, and Snape spotted a faint glimmer of light—a small exit.
He slowed his pace, approaching cautiously.
The light at the tip of his wand extinguished silently; he didn't want to expose himself in an unknown environment.
He edged forward carefully, slipping through the exit into a cluttered, dusty room.
By the slivers of light filtering through the gaps in the boarded-up windows, he surveyed the infamous Shrieking Shack: peeling wallpaper, stained floors, broken furniture as if smashed in a fit of rage, and every window tightly sealed with wooden planks.
The room was empty. To the right, an open door led to a dim hallway.
His gaze swept the room, landing on a nearby wooden chair with a large chunk of its back missing and one leg broken off. The damage looked old, not fresh.
Snape kept his wand raised cautiously. Even if their homemade Wolfsbane Potion hadn't worked, Lupin wouldn't be able to harm him in this state.
Suddenly, he heard faint sounds from above—something was moving upstairs.
He looked up at the ceiling, ears straining to catch every subtle noise. Dust sifted down through the cracks in the floorboards.
As quietly as possible, Snape moved into the hallway and approached a rickety staircase.
The wooden steps creaked faintly under his weight. He held his breath, treading lightly.
Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust, the floor scattered with chaotic footprints. He could just make out what looked like the tracks of two people walking side by side, perhaps accompanied by a few animals.
His eyes followed the footprints as he ascended to the dark landing.
Following the jumbled tracks, he approached a closed door. From within came muffled, joyful animal sounds.
"Interesting," Snape thought. "They're all here. Sounds like they're having fun."
Gripping his wand tightly, he kicked the door open. It slammed against the wall with a loud bang.
Inside, on a dusty four-poster bed draped with grimy curtains, sat a werewolf covered in yellowish-gray fur. Moonlight streamed through the gaps in the boarded windows, outlining the werewolf's towering silhouette.
But the werewolf was oddly calm, even a bit puzzled. It was running its sharp claws over its body, as if checking its condition.
A stag and a large black dog stood by the bed, letting out soft cheers, while a small rat scurried across the bed, squeaking excitedly.
The moment the door flew open, the rat leaped as if shocked, darting behind the werewolf. The stag and dog whipped around to face the intruder, their eyes flashing with hostility.
Before Snape could speak, the stag and dog charged at him.
"Impedimenta!" Snape's wand slashed through the air the instant he saw them move.
A red flash struck the lunging stag and dog, hurling them back with an invisible force. They crashed against the wall but scrambled up immediately, ready to charge again.
But the werewolf stood, stepping in front of them, a low, guttural whine rising from its throat. It wasn't a typical wolf's howl but a restrained sound, laced with rational control, as if urging its companions to hold back.
The stag and dog froze.
When the werewolf turned to face Snape again, the stag and dog had transformed back into human form—James Potter and Sirius Black stood there, disheveled, hair wild, but their eyes still burned with defiance.
James had a hand on Sirius's shoulder, while Sirius stood close, their bodies almost touching.
Both stared at Snape, their gazes brimming with wariness.
"Expelliarmus!" Snape barked, pointing his wand at them out of caution.
No wands flew from their bodies.
"We're not carrying wands, Snape," Sirius said without a trace of a smile. "Thanks for the Wolfsbane Potion."
"Oh, that's reassuring," Snape replied, a pleased smile curling his lips. "It's been a while, gentlemen. Don't misunderstand—I didn't come here by choice.
"Tonight, I'm merely here as a potions master, checking on our first user. I suggest you keep things friendly."
James's eyes blazed with anger, but Sirius gripped his arm.
"Don't," Sirius muttered. "He's here for Remus."
Snape stepped toward the werewolf, undaunted despite the stark size difference, and met Lupin's beastly eyes with a steady gaze.
The werewolf looked down at him. Under Snape's calm stare, it slowly backed away, retreating to sit on the edge of the bed.
James and Sirius moved to the bed, standing protectively in front of Lupin, watching Snape warily but taking no further action.
Snape's gaze fell on the gray rat hiding behind the bed's curtains.
"Peter," he said, a hint of mockery in his tone, "why haven't you transformed back? Or do you find the rat form more… fitting?"
The rat's small gray body twitched. Then, like a time-lapse of a growing tree, a head emerged, then limbs.
Moments later, a short, cowering man stood where the rat had been, wringing his hands, eyes avoiding Snape's.
"Severus," Wormtail said timidly, "how are you?"
"I'm well, thank you," Snape replied, approaching the four-poster bed. "Now, let's see how the potion's working."
James and Sirius hesitated but stepped aside.
At Lupin's side, Snape began a professional examination of the transformed werewolf.
He tapped Lupin lightly with his wand, prodded here and there, and even pried open the werewolf's mouth to inspect its teeth and gums.
"No signs of mutation," he muttered to himself. "Aggression significantly reduced…"
"How do you feel?" he asked Lupin, his voice almost gentle. "Any discomfort after taking the potion?"
Lupin shook his head slightly, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes.
"Good," Snape said. "The potion seems effective."
Turning to James and Sirius, he continued, "Based on the lunar cycle, the full moon will last two more days. I won't return during that time. But I expect you to closely monitor Remus's condition, not just celebrate with him.
"If anything seems off, record it. It'll help us refine the Wolfsbane Potion to better assist him."
"Alright," Sirius said hoarsely after a brief pause. "We'll do it."
"Also," Snape added, his gaze sweeping over the four, "I suggest you continue transforming into animals to accompany him during future full moons. Damocles's research clearly states that even with the Wolfsbane Potion, werewolves may occasionally lose control."
"And," he continued, "while you might eventually spend a full moon in the dormitory before graduation, for now, safety comes first. Stay here. We need more data and refinements to ensure the potion's stability—"
A loud bang interrupted him as the wooden door was flung open. A red-haired girl burst in, pale and breathless.
Lily stood in the doorway, chest heaving as if she'd run the whole way. A streak of blood marred her face, and her robes bore marks of being whipped by branches.
She gripped her wand tightly, her green eyes strikingly bright in the dim room. Her gaze swept over the four-poster bed, taking in the calm werewolf, Snape, and James and Sirius nearby.
The air in the room seemed to freeze. James opened his mouth as if to speak, but his throat bobbed, and he swallowed his words.
Snape turned, saw Lily, and immediately stood.
"Lily, your face—"
Before she could respond, he stepped close, pointing his wand at the cut on her cheek. "Episkey."
Lily felt a sharp sting, then a cool sensation.
"Oh," she said, touching her cheek gingerly, puzzled. "Was there a cut?"
Snape nodded. "It's healed now," he said softly. "Does it hurt?"
"Not really," Lily replied, shaking her head.
"Why are you here?" Snape asked.
"N-nothing," Lily stammered, tucking her wand into her sleeve, her eyes flickering. "I wanted to see the Wolfsbane Potion's effects for myself."
"That's why I'm here too," Snape said. "It seems quite effective." He stepped aside so she could see Lupin. "Look, Remus is just sitting there, like a big, furry teddy bear."
Lupin—despite his werewolf form—sat calmly on the bed's edge, raising a clawed paw in an awkward wave to Lily.
"Perhaps we shouldn't disturb them further," Snape said, giving Lupin a small wave before turning to Lily. "Shall we head back?"
Lily nodded, avoiding the others' gazes. "Alright," she said, turning to leave with Snape.
As they stepped out of the Shrieking Shack and back into the moonlight, Snape noticed Lily's shoulders relax slightly.
The Whomping Willow's branches swayed in the night breeze but didn't attack—the stone still held firm against the knot.
"So that's how it works," Lily said, watching his actions.
"Did you force your way in?" Snape asked, noticing scratches on the tree's bark. "Those marks—did you make them?"
"I didn't know how to get in," Lily admitted sheepishly. "So I just…"
She drew her wand and healed the scratches on the tree's bark.
On the way back to the castle, Lily glanced back at the now-still Whomping Willow.
"Sev," she said softly, "don't you hate them anymore?"
Snape didn't stop walking, but his pace slowed.
"I do," he answered candidly. "But they're not important to me. I just don't care much about them."
Lily nodded thoughtfully.
After a few more steps, Snape stopped and turned to her.
"You followed me," he said, his voice low, eyes locked on hers. "Were you worried I'd do something to them?"
Lily froze. She lowered her head, her red hair falling over her face, and remained silent for a long moment.
Her reaction stirred a pang of disappointment in Snape. Fine, he thought. After all this time, if she still cares about them…
He started walking again, moving past her toward the castle.
But as he brushed by, Lily spoke.
"When I was heading back to the dormitory," she said, her voice so soft it was almost carried away by the wind, "I saw you from the window." She looked up, her green eyes shimmering in the moonlight. "I was afraid you'd get into danger like last time, afraid that this time… no one would pull you back…"
Snape stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at Lily's bright eyes under the moonlight, momentarily at a loss for words.
Lily's face seemed as red as her hair, but she didn't look away.
————
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