Thank you for the responses on the last chapter. Poor Harry just doesn't get a break, that's true, and won't get one until probably the end of the year.

The title of this chapter is a variation on a line from the Book of Job: "I have been a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls."

Chapter Twenty-Five: I Have Been a Brother to Wolves

"Are you sure?"

Harry quirked his lips in a smile. Nervous as he was, he thought that Draco was having a worse time of it, with the way that he kept asking Harry if he was sure, if he was ready. "I'm sure. And you'll be there for the start of term soon, so it's not like we're going to be separated for a long period of time."

Draco frowned at him. "I just don't understand why you won't let me come with you right now, but you'll let Snape." He had moved slightly, as though to shield Harry with his body from the fireplace they were about to Floo through. They were in the antechamber that Snape had entered last week, and to hear Snape tell it, there was no change except that the frost on the windows was heavier.

"Because Dumbledore can't manipulate him as easily," said Harry, and waited serenely while Draco sputtered through his protest. When he'd finished, Harry went on. "You try, Draco, but you're not quite as experienced at manipulation yet. And anyway, you're learning the pureblood dances. Dumbledore won't keep to them. He knows that he can't challenge me on that ground, not with the ritual I performed on my mother. He's going to try different tricks instead."

"Like what?" Draco insisted, folding his arms.

Harry shrugged. "Emotional blackmail, I think. Probably also something legal, even though he can't actually have the Ministry arrest me for turning my mother into a Muggle."

"I want to hurt him," said Draco.

"And that is why you can't go yet," said Harry gently. "I promise, Draco, we'll see each other in a short time, and I'll have Professor Snape with me. Don't you trust him to take care of me?"

"Not in the same way," said Draco, and stamped his foot, and turned his back so that he could stare into the fireplace and sulk. Then, abruptly, he lifted his head and turned around again. "I never did give you a Christmas gift!" he exclaimed.

"Then you can give it to me when you get back to school," said Harry.

"And where's my gift?" Draco was scowling at him.

"At school," said Harry. "I wanted to give it to you in person."

Draco smiled at him and might have said something else, but Snape swept into the room then, and nodded to Harry. "Since the Headmaster requested our presence so precipitously," he said, "I feel it would not be wise to disappoint him."

"Of course not, sir," Harry agreed, and stepped forward. Snape was tense beside him. Harry wasn't surprised. He was tense, too, in spite of all his reassurances to Draco about everything being fine.

But he wasn't going to get much chance not to be tense. He would have to plunge ahead and do whatever he could to survive and win. It was the same mindset that had kept him alive through the battle at the end of the first year with Voldemort, when he was already writhing under the Crucio spell. It hurt, of course it hurt, but so? He was marching into war. That always hurt.

At least my mother trained me well to face my enemies, he thought, and then tried not to think about it, because he didn't like thinking about the Muggle who had borne him if he could help it.

Snape took a pinch of Floo powder from the mantle, gripped Harry's shoulder for a moment, and then tossed the powder into the flames. "Hogwarts!" he called out, as the fire turned green, and plunged in.

Harry stayed a moment to embrace Draco, who appeared abruptly nervy about letting him go, and tried to say something. But Harry didn't stay long enough to hear what it was. He was afraid that it might break through the fragile shields that he was already building around himself.

"Mr. Potter, Severus. Please do come in."

Harry lifted his head and stepped into the office with Snape just behind him, at his right shoulder. Dumbledore was no longer using his first name, then. Harry thought it a kind of honesty, setting up the battlefield ahead. He wouldn't try for the grandfatherly persona any more.

Of course, his eyes fixed on Harry were bright with disgust and rage, and Harry knew that honesty was not the same thing as lying down and giving up.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore sharply. He gestured to the two chairs in front of the desk.

"I would prefer to remain standing, thank you," said Harry. His voice emerged from his lips, perfectly practiced and cold. He felt Snape give a small tremor of surprise, but Dumbledore's eyes only narrowed further.

"I would like us to be equals for this discussion, Mr. Potter," he said.

"Then take your seat first."

Snape drew breath as if to say something, but let it go into silence. Harry was sure Snape would have admonished him to be more careful, not to face the Headmaster so bluntly. Slytherin cunning was called for, he would have said, not Gryffindor rashness.

But Harry did not care. He knew he wasn't up to the usual delicate, indirect way he and Dumbledore approached each other, not with the state his mind was in. Besides, delicate and indirect hadn't worked in the past. They had set up a truce, and Dumbledore had begun at once to undermine it with things like his messages to the Ministry. Harry had countered in the same subtle way, and Dumbledore still had not stopped. More than anything else, Harry wanted him stopped.

He didn't think for one moment he could actually persuade the Headmaster to stop interfering in his life. What he would do was refuse to play as many of the games as he could. This was a battle. He wouldn't let Dumbledore pretend it wasn't anymore. He would treat the Headmaster much as he would Lucius, save that he actually trusted Lucius more.

Dumbledore slowly sat down behind the desk. Harry at once made his way to the nearest chair. It was set just high enough from the floor that he would have to climb up onto it like a child and sit with his legs dangling.

Harry let his magic out in a brief, controlled snap. The chair shrank until it was more nearly suited to a thirteen-year-old's height. He took his seat and met Dumbledore's eyes. Yes, there was fear there, and uncertainty, and something that Harry didn't think was quite seething hatred, but could become it very easily.

Good. If I'm unnerved, he should be, too.

"I have received word about what you have done," Dumbledore began, the words sharp as a slap. He'd obviously recognized at least some of the tactics Harry was using, and tried to adapt them to his own advantage.

"You told me that in the letter, Headmaster," said Harry. "However, your wording was interesting. You said that my mother had been stripped of her magic. Does that mean that you do not realize what in fact happened?" He kept his face innocent and unstrained, and felt Snape quiver in his own seat, this time with laughter. Harry felt his own rueful amusement, distantly. It seemed he could not quite stop being Slytherin altogether.

"I know that you called on a misplaced ritual to strip her of her magic," said Dumbledore. "A vengeance ritual."

"A justice ritual, Headmaster," said Harry. "I used the Potter reparations box, and put her magic within it. I would have lost my power instead, if I had called for the box and it really was only vengeance." He knew his voice rang with steel. He didn't care. Dumbledore was an idiot, if he really thought that he was going to make Harry doubt the ritual he had used, and which was the core of the fragile certainty that Harry knew passed for his mind right now.

"I am not speaking of its intention," said Dumbledore, leaning forward. "I am speaking of its effects. You know that you have deprived your mother of every chance of a normal life? I have seen her. She is a Muggle, with not the smallest bit of magic left to her. How do you think she will feel now, surrounded day in and day out by people who have powers she can never exercise again? The punishment was too harsh, Harry."

Harry steeled his heart. He could see the broken figure on the floor if he looked into his mind's eye. He was not looking into it. "I would never have expected you to say that Muggles didn't have normal lives, Headmaster. After all, you've spent your entire life preaching the virtues of protecting them, of regarding them as people just like wizards. 'Only our talents are different,' goes a quote from one of your most famous speeches. 'Our souls are the same.'" He could quote that speech flawlessly. He could quote the whole thing flawlessly, if Dumbledore asked for it. There were advantages to being made to study and memorize history books since he could read. "Lily Potter is not less than she ever was. How dare you say that she is?"

Snape was most definitely trying not to laugh now. Dumbledore leaned forward further, his face gone grave and disappointed. "For one who has been magical, Harry, the loss is still a severe blow," he said. "You must realize that."

"And what about the blows that she has given me, Headmaster?" Harry let his voice rise. Let him think I'm on the verge of losing control. Dumbledore should really watch his magic instead of the visible indicators of voice and face, and for the moment, his magic lay quiescent around him. "The way she trained me. The phoenix web. The way that she tried to put the phoenix web on me again, after making me believe that I might have a family and that she understood what she had done wrong." Snape jerked. Harry ignored him. Yes, he hadn't told either Snape or the Malfoys about what exactly Lily had done to make him so angry, but that was because he didn't have a reason to relive it with them. With Dumbledore, he did. The Headmaster's eyes were wide with shock. Harry laughed, and knew the sound was harsh, and did not care. "You should never have advised her to do that, Headmaster. Of course I resisted it. It was the one thing that could have made me angry enough to use the justice ritual. I am never going to be bound again. Never."

The Headmaster looked old, and supremely tired. "Harry," he murmured. "Do you realize what will happen if your magic is not bound?"

Harry raised his eyebrows mockingly at him. "You think that I'll turn into the next Dark Lord?"

"I don't think it, Harry. I know it, given where your power comes from." Dumbledore seemed to age before his eyes. "Your mother must have told you about the talent that you possess to feed on the magic of other wizards. That is an inherently evil thing."

"What, like Parseltongue?" Harry asked. "I don't think so, Headmaster. I know the difference between Light and Dark magic now, since I've been under the phoenix web. I don't think that the ability to speak with snakes is Dark, and I don't believe that I'll go evil just because my magic is free."

Dumbledore shook his head. "You are still going to endanger other students, my dear boy. I cannot let you attend Hogwarts with your magic unchecked."

Harry ground his teeth. He had to admit, he hadn't seen that coming. But he thought he could still respond. "I am getting it checked," he said. "Professor Snape has graciously agreed to train me, and to stop my abilities from harming other wizards. He is a trained Occlumens. He can tell me when I am impinging on his thoughts and his magic. And he has served two Lords," he couldn't help adding. "He'll know what would happen to make me become one, and prevent that from happening."

He glanced at Snape for the first time since they had entered the office, and saw the watchful dark eyes fixed on his face. Snape nodded once. Harry was glad. Now it wouldn't really matter if his will faltered a bit, or if he felt like giving up on the path because it was too hard. Snape would be there, pushing him forward, and once Snape had decided something, he didn't yield.

"That is a problem," said Dumbledore, his voice barely a breath. "That Severus has served two Lords, I mean. If it were more widely-known…if it were confirmed that he still bears the Dark Mark, for example…"

Harry sat straight up and met Dumbledore's eyes. He is threatening a person I care about. His magic trembled, wanting to be unleashed, but this wasn't a problem that could be solved with magic.

Up the stakes. Since he only seems to understand how poisonous these blades are when they're pointed back against him, I'll just do that.

"That would be a shame," said Harry casually. "Since losing Professor Snape would make you lose Professor Black, too, and where would you find competent wizards to cover both positions?"

Dumbledore's face went white.

"I am tired of this," said Harry, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore's. "You must know by now that I won't give up. And yet you keep threatening to sack Professor Snape, as if that will make me bow. I'm not going to bow. Threaten my guardian, and I'll threaten the man you sent Peter to Azkaban for."

Dumbledore was shaking his head from side to side. Harry couldn't tell whether the shock and sorrow he wore now were real or feigned. "Harry, he is your godfather," he murmured.

"He doesn't deserve the title," Harry snarled, and was startled to hear himself say the words even as they passed his lips. He hadn't realized this kind of rage was under the surface, hot and boiling, so unlike the cold rage he'd used to enact the justice ritual. "He's helped Connor more than me this year. He doubted me last year. He's lied to me about everything important in his life. You made Peter into a sacrifice for him just like you made me into a sacrifice for Connor. I don't want to protect him anymore, Professor." He clenched his fingers in front of him. "I would prefer not to take this public, Headmaster, but I will if you force Professor Snape's past into the open. The moment everyone hears about the ex-Death Eater working at Hogwarts, everyone is going to hear about the insane Professor Black with a Dark talent and a fondness for trying to kill his godson working at Hogwarts—the one who was spared death or Azkaban because you persuaded someone else to go to prison in his stead." He paused delicately. "Indeed, some people already know." He was sure that that was what Starborn's letter had been referring to, when he had written that Harry should ask what had spared Sirius Azkaban.

Dumbledore remained silent for long moments. Harry met his eyes directly. He could feel the probing light of Legilimency, but it bounced straight off his Occlumency shields.

Behind those shields, Harry knew, he was terribly vulnerable. But he had come prepared for nearly everything that Dumbledore threw at him so far. He was going to continue to do so. He was going to continue to attend Hogwarts, and he was going to continue to have Snape as his guardian.

"Do you think anyone would believe you?" Dumbledore asked at last. His voice was emotionless.

"I'm sure that Rita Skeeter would be happy to," Harry said coldly. "She seems rather fascinated with me."

Dumbledore nodded, once, twice, and then said, "Very well, Harry. You may continue to attend Hogwarts, and Professor Snape may continue to work here." He turned and opened one of the boxes on a shelf behind him, pulling out a sheaf of papers. "However, I am afraid that he can no longer continue to be your guardian."

"No?" Harry asked through numb lips.

"No." Dumbledore spread the papers on his desk. "You see, with the Dark spell your parents were under gone—on both their minds—there is no longer any reason to keep you from them. The Ministry agreed to give custody of you to Severus Snape for only as long as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was investigating your parents. Now that the spell is gone, you can return to them." He shot Harry a narrow-eyed glance, coupled with a bright smile. "Unless you can provide some reason that you should stay away from them, of course."

Harry clenched his fists. The bastard. Oh, he could tell the Ministry the truth easily enough—but that would mean letting everyone know what his mother had done to him, dragging the whole mess up again. Harry wanted it done with. The ritual had been all the justice he intended to take. He wouldn't see his family vilified and crucified in front of the horrified and morbidly curious wizarding world. He was done with Lily. He would leave it up to James, Sirius, and Remus to confront him on their own terms. And he was Connor's brother now and forever. Connor didn't deserve to be in front of the media circus that would result.

"Harry," Snape hissed. "They should know. I am willing to go to any lengths to stay as your guardian, and if that means telling the Ministry—"

Someone rapped smartly on the door of the office. Dumbledore smiled. "Ah," he said. "That should be the Ministry representative I asked to join us, bringing the papers to transfer your guardianship back to your parents, Harry. You will have to choose, in a moment, between truth and lies. Choose well." He sat back behind his desk and beamed as the door swung in.

Harry, frozen, saw Dumbledore's smile disappear in the same moment as a smooth voice said, "Terribly sorry for the delay, Albus, old boy. But I'm afraid there's been a bit of a problem with the paperwork."

Harry turned, disbelieving, joyous, to see Rufus Scrimgeour standing in the doorway. His apologetic expression was nearly perfect, except for the light in his eyes, which were fixed on Dumbledore. He never acknowledged Harry as he limped forward and laid the handful of papers he held carefully on the Headmaster's desk. He didn't need to, Harry thought. He could see the essence of the Auror's plan from here.

Oh, beautifully done, sir, he thought, with the same admiration with which he'd read about Dark families' outmaneuvering each other in the past. Oh, wonderfully done.

He was absolutely sure, even before Dumbledore began to shift through the papers, that this was all perfectly legal. Scrimgeour wouldn't have it otherwise. He watched Dumbledore with patient earnestness as he looked through the pieces of parchment, and nodded when the Headmaster stared at him.

"Yes, Albus, I'm sorry," he said, with oceans of regret in his voice. "But you know that we can't make an exception to the proper procedure even for you." He managed to say that without any emphasis at all. Harry was beyond impressed. "All the forms have to be completed absolutely properly, and in triplicate. We received only one copy of each, and most of the vital information was missing." Scrimgeour shrugged. "I'm sure it will be set right eventually. No doubt it was a mistake somewhere along the line. But, in the meantime, I'll have to ask you to complete the forms again."

He paused, then drew a final sheet of parchment out of his cloak and laid it carefully, carefully, down in the center of the table. "And this," he said. "It's the results of the exam that we had Lily Potter take, just to be absolutely sure that she'd returned to normal. I'm not sure what happened, Albus, really. Probably she was just having a bad day, the poor girl. It's not every day that one recovers from a Dark spell on one's mind. But until we can see some sign that she has her normal magic back, I'm afraid that we can't release young Harry here into her custody. She might have erratic power and hurt him, after all. And I'm sure none of us want the boy with a guardian who would hurt him."

Dumbledore had been absolutely stopped. Harry wanted very, very badly to laugh, but he managed to lower his head and clap a hand over his mouth, making soft snorting noises instead. Scrimgeour gave him a mild glance, as much as to say that he didn't know what Harry found so funny in all this deadly serious business. Snape was leaning back in his chair, his eyes glinting as they fixed on Scrimgeour.

"I will insure that the forms are completed properly, Auror Scrimgeour," said Dumbledore, and swept up all the papers. His stopping had lasted only a few moments, Harry saw. He would find a way past it. But at least he wasn't saying that Harry had to return to his parents right now; for that alone, Harry thought, he owed a debt to Scrimgeour.

"See that you do, Albus." Scrimgeour wagged one finger. "There's nothing more important than properly completed paperwork, especially in a case like this." He turned and moved towards the door, giving a final glance at Harry and Snape. "Are you coming?" he asked. "I would like to have one more interview with young Mr. Potter here, to insure that he's been treated right."

"Of course," Dumbledore had no choice but to say, though he watched Harry with fierce eyes.

Harry smiled amiably at him. So things hadn't been settled permanently, not yet, but he supposed he had been a fool to think they would be. At least he was able to walk out of the office without more vicious mental wounds, and with an idea of what tactics Dumbledore would try now. He would count it a victory.

"Of course, Auror Scrimgeour," he said, and stood. Snape moved very close to his side. Harry was glad. He didn't entirely trust Dumbledore not to throw a curse at his back. Merlin, he didn't trust Dumbledore to do anything but try to control him and protect Sirius.

As they rode down the moving staircase, Harry looked up at Scrimgeour and said, "Thank you, sir."

"He was mucking about in my Ministry," Scrimgeour explained peacefully. "You don't muck about in my Ministry. You just don't." He paused, and shook his head. "Besides, imagine trying to transfer custody of a child from one guardian to another when all the forms hadn't been properly completed. It's a terrible thing. Keeps me awake at nights."

Someone knocked on the door of Snape's office that night. Harry paused and looked up at Snape, who only shook his head back. He wasn't expecting a visitor, then. Harry palmed his wand and strode cautiously forward. He supposed it might only be Draco, whom he'd seen at the Feast that night but had to leave because Draco had left all his homework until the last moment, but it was better to be safe.

When he opened the door, he blinked. Remus stood there, shivering slightly, as though he'd been caught in a heavy rain. The amber eyes he turned to Harry's face shone with desperation.

"What do you want, werewolf?" Snape snapped from behind Harry. A glance back showed that his wand was most definitely pointing at Remus, and he looked inclined to hex first and ask questions later.

"I want my memories back," said Remus softly.

"I know the ritual that you did to Lily," Remus explained, for the third time, at Snape's insistence. "My father told me about it. And I know that it can't be wrong." He clenched his hands in front of him. They were shaking. "Harry," he said, "I have to know, now. I thought it would be better never to know, to just leave Lily as the good woman I imagined her to be. And now I found out that it—isn't. I can't stand knowing that she did something wrong, and no details about what it was. Please, please, let me past the barrier. Let me see. Let me know."

"It's not that simple, Lupin," Snape began, his lip curled. He'd let Remus in to sit on a sofa Transfigured from a bookshelf, which Harry knew was generous by Snape's standards, but refused to take a seat of his own. He'd been pacing around the room during the three explanations. Now he whirled, robes flying behind him as he stabbed his wand at Remus again. "You know that an Obliviate is Dark magic by at least one standard. It clamps down on your free will, and prevents you from looking at one set of memories you should have access to. The safest way is to have Dumbledore remove it, and you know that he will not."

"There's another way," said Remus. "And I would never have suggested this if I didn't think it would work." He turned and faced Harry, who sat on a Transfigured chair across from him. "Harry," he said quietly. "I felt you, in my mind, that night we went running in the Forbidden Forest—"

"What?" Snape said, in a voice that promised death and pain if he wasn't told about this immediately. Harry ignored him, because this was more important.

"And when you released your magic at the Quidditch game," Remus went on, undaunted. "I know what you are." He took a deep breath, and let it out again. He seemed to grow larger as he did so. Harry saw his eyes blaze amber, and the air around him stirred with the smell of musk. The sudden wild atmosphere to the room made Harry's nerves tingle. "Vates," Remus breathed.

Harry nodded slowly. After the ride with Fawkes, he could hardly deny it. But— "I don't know everything about what that word means, Remus," he said. "I could still hurt you."

"I know what it means," Remus whispered. "Not everything, but what it means for me. The unbinder, Harry, someone who opens. You couldn't touch my mind and free me from the Obliviate if I were an ordinary human. But the werewolf in me knows you." He smiled faintly. "Even if it doesn't like you very much."

"Wait a minute—" Snape began.

Harry stood up. His magic swirled around him, and he brought it forward so that it pointed at Remus. "You know that I'm going to have to enter your mind?" he asked, and Remus nodded.

"Wait a minute—" Snape said again.

"Good," said Harry. "Just checking." And he leaned forward and opened his eyes and his magic in the way that he had just after he'd ridden with Fawkes.

An absolute maze of webs sprang into being around him, worked through the stones of Hogwarts and into the very earth. Harry could see the bindings on the house elves if he looked, probably the most prominent ones, and a net spread over the Forbidden Forest, and the icy, curling blue strands that reached out from Hogwarts's grounds towards Azkaban and tied the Dementors to their duty.

But, at the moment, he was only interested in one set of them. He focused his mind on Remus, and saw the man as a shimmering form, surrounding two webs. One was small and red, and held back a specific set of memories in which Harry saw his own face.

He tensed himself, and reached out to that web.

Immediately, the other one attacked him. It was old, and dark, and wound into every part of Remus's being—body for the transformation, mind for the bestial rage that was a werewolf in the killing mood, emotions for the way it heightened all of them, spirit for the pall it cast over Remus's life, and magic for the way it made Remus able to pass the curse on to others. It fell on Harry like a crushing weight, heavy and black, snarling in his ear and drooling liquid so warm it might have been blood.

Harry held himself firm. The werewolf was recognizing him even as it tried to keep him out. It itself was a magical creature, and in the grip of a human mind or one calmed by Wolfsbane, it had to listen to the rumors of power Harry carried with him—that and his hatred of compulsion, Harry suspected. Only when it went absolutely mad with fury during the transformation was it free of the need to listen. Harry knew, then, why he hadn't been able to make Fenrir Greyback recognize him.

"I hate you."

Harry's hair stood on end, and he swallowed several times before he could reply. It was unnerving to realize that the disease had a voice. "I know," he said. "It doesn't matter. I want to take off the Obliviate. I want to free a part of you that's been tied up. That should lessen your hatred of me, shouldn't it?"

"You like him," said the disease.

"Who?" Harry asked, at a loss.

"The one I ride." The web flexed its claws, and Harry dimly heard Remus cry out. The wolf was trying to wake. "My victim. Mine. I hate him, too."

Harry shuddered, and because he was in Remus's mind, a storm of memories flitted past his eyes. He realized fully what it meant when Remus had said he was a werewolf, not a wolf. This wasn't a wild creature Harry could speak with as he had with the Runespoors or centaurs, not even a Dark creature open to bargaining, as the Dementors were. This was a Dark creature who lived to compel others. It hated Remus, and it was alive in him, and it would torment him until he was dead, for no better reason than the pleasure of making him obey its will.

Harry felt his own hatred of compulsion rise in response. He bared his teeth. "Someday," he promised, "I am going to destroy you."

"Can't. Won't." The disease laughed at him, a sound that Harry felt like fever in every fiber of his being. "Too weak of will. And I hate you. I catch and torture what I hate. Always." Harry had the sensation of teeth snapping past his ear. "You, and the other one in here, the one my steed calls Severus. I'll have him yet."

Later, Harry considered that perhaps he ought to have reacted to the threat more rationally. But he hated it when people threatened those he loved. He didn't understand why his enemies kept doing it.

He reached out and pulled Remus's Obliviate apart.

Remus's mind bucked, twisting, trying to shatter in the face of the suddenly released memories and the disease's pushing. Harry wrapped his magic around it and held on. He kept breathing gusts of free will across it, wanting Remus to do as he wanted, not as Dumbledore or the werewolf in him wanted. Harry bent all his will to that task, feeling himself slip to the ground. He heard Snape yelling "Ennervate!" but he didn't respond to the pull back to his own body. He had to do this. He hated webs so much. He wanted the one web he thought he could remove at the time gone.

If I have this power for a reason, this is the reason, he thought, and shoved, and shoved hard, at the pressures threatening to break Remus's mind apart. Where they wouldn't yield, or Remus couldn't respond fast enough to deal with them, Harry took them on himself.

He felt his shields give way, felt the webs of his mind unraveling, and hung on there, too. He had to stay sane, because Draco and Snape wanted him sane, and because the justice ritual had been right. He didn't have anyone's permission to go insane, including his own, because, at the moment, that would mean the same thing as doubting the ritual.

The storm at last finished. Harry opened his eyes and found himself lying on the floor in Snape's office. He looked up, blinking, turning towards Remus, but Snape's face got in the way first.

"If you ever do that again," Snape hissed, one hand clutching at Harry's shoulder, "then I am going to kill you, discover magic that will allow me to resurrect the dead, and use it to bring you back to life so that I can kill you again."

"Remus's werewolf threatened you," said Harry, still trying to sit up. "It shouldn't have done that." His head was aching ferociously, and he couldn't see more than a few feet. He could make out that the Transfigured couch was empty, though. "Where's Remus?" he added.

"The beast ran out of here," said Snape in disgust. "He said something about finding Black."

Harry felt his eyes widen as he remembered what Remus had told him about being suddenly released from the Obliviate. I know that there would be no going back once I learned what they did to you. And it would be because of me, not them. They may have done unforgivable things, but I would do unforgivable things, too, in my anger.

And…

I'm not rational when I'm in a rage, Harry. I've been tempted to bite people before.

This soon after the full moon, and with the rage and the werewolf rising up in him, Remus might even bite Sirius, and succeed in giving him the curse.

"Oh, Merlin," Harry said, and managed to stand and turn towards the door. "We've got to stop him."

"Why?" Snape asked, curling his fingers in his collar. "I would much rather stay here and listen to you tell me the stories of your trips to the Forbidden Forest."

"He's going to make Sirius a werewolf!" Harry yelled, trying to twist out of Snape's grasp. It was hard when his head and mind still trembled with pain, and even his magic felt exhausted.

"Why didn't you say so?" Snape let him go and strode towards the door. "I want to watch."