I own nothing but the plot.
He was free. Severus Snape sat at the desk of his home at Spinner's End. He was curious as to why he was still alive. The Unbreakable Vow Dumbledore had forced on him all those years ago didn't seem to have worked. He was grateful for that, of course, but he was still confused about why it failed. The bonder for the vow had been Albus's brother Aberforth, and the brothers famously did not get along. Had that weakened the vow?
Realising he would never solve the mystery without further information, Severus abandoned his contemplation and indulged himself in the joy of never having to teach ignorant brats again. He wouldn't have to see that idiot Finnegan melt another cauldron. There would be no more regurgitations of text re-writing the textbooks three times in a single essay from Granger. The girl seemed incapable of writing one sentence if she could convey the same information with ten. It took him five times longer to grade her essays than the rest of her class combined.
He would never have to see Potter again. He hated the boy. He had tried not to hate him. He thought he could get over it. He tried to ignore how much the Potter boy looked like his father. He didn't know if the Jedi freaks had fixed the boy's vision or if he never needed glasses in the first place, but in every other physical way but his eyes, Harry Potter was a clone of James.
His thoughts turned to Lily. As always, a wave of sadness swept through him. He quickly and savagely suppressed it. He rose from his desk and put on his cloak. He would have to do something about employment. He would enquire at the local apothecaries. It would be nice to brew and not worry about brats.
"Why do you have a Slytherin tie in here?" Peter asked. He waved a green and silver tie at Sirius, who was hunched over another trunk on the other side of the room. The two men were searching through a bunch of old trunks in the attic of Grimmauld.
"Oh," Sirius said, "that trunk was Reggie's."
Peter closed his eyes and counted to ten.
"Why am I searching for your old notebook in your brother's old trunk?" he asked.
"Because the notebook is not where I left it," Sirius answered. "All this stuff is mixed up, and I'm not sure where that mad elf stuck it."
"Why do we need it, anyway?" Peter asked, returning to rummaging through the various items in the trunk. "I remember the steps well enough."
"So do I," Sirius answered. "But, those two are swots. Harry is less so than Hermione, but still. They'll need convincing."
"How bad can she be?" Peter asked.
"Think a younger Professor McGonagall, but more feisty," Sirius said.
"Merlin help us," Peter muttered with a shudder.
"You have no idea," Sirius said. "So, let's find that notebook. We'll only convince her if we can show our work."
"This sounds like we're being graded on homework," Peter complained.
"That's how I'm approaching it," Sirius said.
Severus opened the door to Mulpepper's Apothecary. Mulpepper's was his favourite apothecary in Diagon Alley and where he usually purchased his ingredients before the school year started. As he entered, the familiar smells of brine and the earthy undertones of herbs and fungi hit his nose. He approached the owner.
"Professor Snape," the man said, surprised. "We usually don't see you here this time of year. Is there something you need?"
"Not today," Severus answered. He had never bothered to learn the man's first name. "I have decided to leave the profession of teaching. I have no doubt you would appreciate a Master of Potions on staff. What can I expect my salary to be?"
"You've left Hogwarts?" the man asked.
"Yes," Severus confirmed. "I've decided I will be much happier brewing and experimenting than teaching. About my salary?"
The owner, Robert Mulpepper, winced. "I'm sorry," he said. "We cannot help you."
"I beg your pardon?" Severus asked.
"You've always been a very good customer of ours, Severus," Mr Mulpepper said, "so I'm going to be honest with you. I'm afraid you would not be a good fit with our team."
"And what dunderheads are on your team that I am unfit to join?" Severus asked crossly.
"All former students of yours," Mr Mulpepper answered. "All of them received good scores on their NEWTs, and they still had to go overseas for their Masteries. You are welcome to purchase anything you like here, but I cannot employ you."
"If you do not wish to enjoy the services of the best potions Master in Europe," Severus snarled, "then on your head be it." He twirled around and left, vowing never to grace them with his presence again.
Mr Mulpepper sighed and watched the black cloak of Severus Snape leave his establishment. A young lady in her mid-twenties poked her head out from a curtain behind the counter.
"Is he gone?" she asked.
"Yes," Mr Mulpepper said. "You can come out now."
The young lady slipped out behind the curtain and was joined by a younger girl and a slightly older man.
"Did he actually call himself the best Potions Master in Europe?" the young man asked.
"I'm glad he's left Hogwart's," the first girl said. "My sister is still there. I wonder who's replacing him?"
"We'll find out soon enough," Mr Mulpepper said. "Let's get back to work."
"Welcome to Potions," Professor Horace Slughorn said. The third-year Slytherin/Gryffindor class was his first class in almost thirteen years, and he was happy to be back in Hogwarts.
"I've been going over the curriculum," he continued, "and I'm somewhat astonished that some of you are doing as well as you are. Your former professor has left out a considerable amount of basic information. No matter. We can get you caught up. Now, who can tell me what Potion-making is?"
Seeing that no one raised their hand, he tried again.
"Come now," he said, "someone can surely take a guess."
Dean Thomas tentatively raised his hand.
"It's making potions?" he asked.
"Yes," Professor Slughorn said, not impressed. "Potion-making is indeed making potions. I'm hoping for something a bit more in-depth, though. How about you, young lady?" He pointed at Hermione.
"It's combining different ingredients in the right quantities and order to make different compounds," Hermione said, sounding less sure of herself than usual.
"Well, that's really just a fancier way of saying what Mr Thomas said, isn't it?" Professor Slughorn said. Hermione's face fell. "Please don't worry, either of you. It's my fault. I wasn't clear."
Professor Slughorn went to the blackboard. With a swipe of his wand, the spiky handwriting of Snape was wiped away.
"What Mr Thomas and Miss Granger said," Professor Slughorn said, "was essentially correct. What I was looking for, however, was the category of magic that potion-making belongs to." He tapped the blackboard with his wand, and the word Alchemy appeared at the top.
"Potion-making," he instructed, "is alchemy. You are using magic to transform different ingredients into wholly new substances. Many of the ingredients we use are deadly, but not when we're done with them. Now, assuming there was no magic involved, what would you get if you were to throw bicorn horn, mandrake root, and jewelweed in a cauldron of water and give it a stir?"
"Pepperup Potion?" Pansy Parkinson asked.
"Remember," Professor Slughorn said, wagging his finger at her, "I said without magic. What you'll get, without magic, is a particularly unpleasant soup, probably poisonous. Magic is involved in all potion-making. Pepperup Potion requires magic to dissolve the bicorn horn. It merges with the mandrake root and the jewelweed to become a much different compound. I want this to be clear to you. Magic is essential in all potion-making."
"Are there any potions that can be made without magic?" Hermione asked.
"Not a one," Professor Slughorn answered. If you can make it without magic, it is not a potion. "
Delores Umbridge stared at the shabby, moth-eaten curtains covering the windows of her childhood home. Her father, Orford Umbridge, sat in a rocking chair on the porch, smoking a pipe. He spotted her as she crossed the street.
"Well," he said with a sneer, "look what the wolf dragged in."
"Father," Delores said, her voice betraying her fear. "I need help."
"Now that's interesting," Orford said. "You couldn't be bothered to say hello at the Ministry unless it was payin' me to pretend I wasn't your father, and now you need my help."
"I've lost my apartment," Delores said. "I just need a place to stay for a few days until I work something out."
"It's amazing how much children can curse their parents," Orford said. "First, Ellen gave me a squib for a son, and then you acted like you were ashamed even to know me."
"Not you," Delores interrupted. "Mum. She was the muggle. She was the one not worth knowing."
"Of course, she wasn't worth anything," Orford snapped. "I wouldn't have married her in the first place if she hadn't gotten pregnant with you. I wish she never did."
"Can I stay here or not," Delores asked, tired of dancing around her miserable father's insecurities. It wasn't her fault he had married a muggle. They could have all lived together as a happy family if he had married a proper pureblood the way he was supposed to.
"See," Orford said, "that'd be a problem for me. That stipend you've been giving me to pretend not to know you will dry up soon unless I miss my guess. I've got to conserve resources. Why don't you find that Mudblood of a mother of yours and your no-good squib brother? See if they don't mind a wolf in their house."
"Fine," Delores retorted. "You can expect that the stipend has ended immediately. See how long you can stay here on a floor-moppers wage without it."
"Don't darken my doorstep again," Orford snarled at her.
"It's not like it will be your doorstep for long," Delores said over her shoulder as she stalked away.
Delores ended up sitting in a tea house around the corner. Ashamed of her Muggle mother and her Squib brother, she had removed herself from their home as soon as she graduated from Hogwarts. She had never maintained good relations with any of her relatives. Her father, a low-level Ministry maintenance worker, was a wizard at least, but had no ambition. Now, he wasn't even available to her when she needed him.
It galled her to come crawling back and even more for him to dismiss her as if she were garbage. He spent his day mopping floors and thought he was better than her. The worst part was that since that monster had bitten her, he father was right. She vowed that she would get him back for this.
Sitting alone in her booth, she started to cry.
The remainder of November flew by. Professor Slughorn was competing with Professor Lupin as the favourite teacher at Hogwarts. Lupin's newly outed status as a Werewolf had hurt his popularity, but he was such a good teacher that he overcame most students' trepidation about him given time.
The Whomping Willow shook the leaves off itself the morning of November 29th, and the day was beautiful with crisp air and a blue sky. The night came early, and the full moon shone like the beam of a lighthouse on the grounds of Hogwarts.
Two students slipped out of the greenhouses to sneak back into the castle. The boy wore robes with red trim, while the girl had robes with blue. At this hour, the caretaker would have barred the main doors. However, the boy's twin brothers had very helpfully shown him a secret exit, of which even the teachers were unaware.
The pair giggled and laughed as they shared the last few minutes of their night. They froze as they heard growls from behind them. Whirling around, Ron Weasley saw a giant, hairy Werewolf step out from behind the greenhouse. It looked even larger than the one that had attacked the train. Ron pushed Lisa behind him and pulled out his wand.
"Ron," Lisa started to whimper, but then she screamed as the Werewolf charged.
"Run!" Ron yelled as he fired a stinging hex at the Werewolf's eyes. Lisa had barely had time to stumble back before the monster knocked Ron over. Diving to the side, Lisa was able to dodge the Werewolf. Ron was holding his left arm to his chest and was firing more stinging hexes after the beast. Most of them missed, as the beast was incredibly fast. The ones that hit didn't seem to slow it at all.
The Werewolf seemed to grin at Lisa as it loped back to her. Red-tinged saliva dripped down its fangs. She also had her wand out and cried out the first spell that came to her mind.
"Incendio!" she yelled. The Werewolf snarled as a jet of fire shot out of her wand and hit it in the snout. With a mighty swipe of its paw, the Werewolf ripped Lisa's wand out of her hand. Lisa screamed again as the Werewolf snapped at her. Its lips were pulled back in a grin, and it was having fun toying with her as she tried to escape.
The Werewolf snapped at her again, then went tumbling as Ron rammed into it with all his might. It wasn't off balance for long, though, and sprang over Ron to continue hunting Lisa. The Werewolf was finished playing with Lisa and lunged forwards to bite. Its jaws snapped on nothing but air as an explosion of white feathers filled its vision.
Hedwig was gliding high over the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Her large eyes scanned the ground, searching for the tiny movements that betrayed the small rodents that sustained her. When she saw the Werewolf attacking two students, she changed her flight path and dove down to attack the monster. Just as the Werewolf was snapping its jaws around the girl's arm, Hedwig extended her claws and slammed into the monster's head. It reared back just enough for the girl to escape.
Forgetting Lisa, the Werewolf snapped at the snow-white owl, but the bird dodged and, wings flapping furiously, slashed at its eyes with razor-sharp talons. The vision in one of the beast's eyes went dark as a stabbing pain shot through its head. The Werewolf snapped at the bird again, but a stinging white goo suddenly blocked the vision in its other eye, and the owl flapped out of reach.
The Werewolf snarled as it realised the girl and boy had used the distraction to escape into the castle. With a swipe of a paw, it cleared its eye of the bird poop. The eye Hedwig had slashed healed rapidly, but the scarring from her talon remained, causing its vision to double in that eye. It saw teachers running out of the castle and knew it was time to leave. Roaring at the bird circling above, the Werewolf ran off into the Forbidden Forest.
Molly and Arthur Weasley walked through the castle corridors with Headmaster Dumbledore on their way to the Hospital Wing.
"What were they doing out of the castle at that hour?" Molly Weasley asked.
"Not everyone enjoys broom closets, my dear," Headmaster Dumbledore answered. "I do wish they had used a bit more care in which night they chose for their escapade, however."
"You mean they were..." Molly's eyes went wide at the implication.
"I have not asked them," Dumbledore said, "and I have no intention of doing so. I doubt they have progressed further than you two had by your third year."
"Were either of them bitten?" Arthur asked, his voice tight.
"Yes," Dumbledore answered sadly. Molly started to cry, burying her face in Arthur's shoulder.
"I'm afraid Ronald was bitten on his left arm," Dumbledore continued. "Madam Pomphrey is running tests to be certain, but you should prepare yourselves for that eventuality."
"What about Lisa?" Arthur asked.
"She is uninjured," Dumbledore answered as they entered the Hospital Wing. Ron was lying on a hospital bed with his left arm bandaged from his wrist to his elbow. Lisa sat in a chair beside the bed while Professor McGonagall stood nearby.
"Ronald," Dumbledore said, "was able to keep the Werewolf off of her. Without his actions, she would almost certainly have been bitten as well. His bravery is to be commended."
"Hedwig's bravery, you mean," Ron said as his mother enveloped him in a hug.
"Hedwig?" Arthur asked. Ron couldn't immediately answer as Molly was making such a fuss. Madam Pomfrey gently pulled her back.
"Harry's owl," Ron explained to his father. "She flew up and attacked the Werewolf, which distracted it long enough for us to get away. I hope she's alright."
"How did an owl distract a Werewolf," Molly asked incredulously.
"I think she attacked his eyes," Lisa said. "She was brilliant. It tried to bite her, but she dodged and got away."
"I turned back to look just as we were dashing into the castle," Ron said, smiling. "Last thing I saw, she pooped in its eye." His smile faded as he looked again at his bandaged arm. "I'm infected, aren't I?" Everyone looked to Madam Pomfrey, who pulled a vial filled with a bright blue potion out of her smock.
"I am very sorry," the Mediwitch said, "but I'm afraid the test was positive. The wound will heal. It will take longer to do so than a non-curse wound, leaving a nasty scar, but you should be able to take the bandage off in a few days. The infection, however, cannot be cured."
"What about school?" Molly cried. "What about a career?"
"For school, we will make accommodations," Dumbledore promised. "It won't be easy for him, but with help from his friends, I know he will get through Hogwarts. I would, however, avoid drawing attention to this with the student body, if possible. He should only tell those he can trust to keep it secret. The Ministry of Magic is not feeling very charitable on the subject of Werewolves lately. While I would certainly protect young Ronald to the best of my abilities should the news get out, it would be best to treat this as quietly as possible."
"We should also talk with Messrs Weasley about any other secret passages out of the castle they may be aware of," Professor McGonagall suggested. "While Ronald has been admirably silent on how he learned a way out of the castle without our knowing it, I have no doubt he learned the secret from his brothers."
"An excellent idea," Dumbledore said. "I had thought we had all of the secret passages secured. I wonder how they learned of another."
A/N - Happy Thanksgiving to all my fellow Americans! (And anyone else who celebrates it.) I'm sorry for the long delay in posting. I've been sick with strep throat and then a few other things, and it's sucked the energy right out of me. I'm recovering, though, so hopefully, I'll be able to get back on track with this.